The Ladies' Man, Rewritten
by Theresa Maxwell
Summary: 121 Stoic, unfriendly Heero Yuy will do almost anything to convince a childhood friend that Duo Maxwell is bad news, including joining marching band. However, as they slowly become friends, he realizes that he didn't really know anything at all.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

**Long Note:** Hello, everyone. You may be surprised to learn that I'm not dead, and I haven't quite given up on this fic! I probably should, but oh well. Anyway, I started to read over what I'd written and felt so utterly embarrassed . . . Yeah, so I thought it was bad, and if I ever were to continue with this, I'd actually have to start over and do things correctly this time. Thank you all so, so, so much for reviewing the previous version. You have no idea how much your thoughts and comments all meant to me, how much I appreciated them . . . So thank you!

Anyway, I've totally started over and wrote a brand new chapter one, which I hope everyone will like. I just, uh, graduated on May 25, and it's kind of weird now, writing about this. I got this idea in mysecond year of marching band, and that was freshman year . . . A lot of things have changed for me since then, obviously. I've (hopefully) matured and have gotten better at writing. My style has definitely changed. It still shifts around sometimes, depending on what I'm writing, so please bear with me. However, the thing that affects this story the most, I think, would be my attitude towards band in general.

I'm not sure how often I'll update this, work on this, or even think about this, but you know, I will try. Gosh, I haven't even read a GW fic in at least a year -- it's crazy. I think I'll have to start watching the series again, just to get a better feel for the characters, or read fics to get back in touch with "fanon."

So new, informal (and unattractive) summary: Basically, Heero Yuy, a cold, stoic kid born into a wealthy family will do just about anything to convince Relena, his childhood friend, that Duo Maxwell, this supposedly notorious and quite charismatic player, is bad news. He went as far as to join the high school marching band. However, when he meets Duo and comes to know him, he realizes that he didn't really know anything about him at all . . .

This will be at least mildly angst-y, of the teenaged, high school drama flavor, but I'd say it's mostly light-hearted at this point. Expect 1+2+1, 3+4+3, some 5+R, a very limited amount of 1+R and 2+R, and other mild hints. Be warned about the band geekness this fic will exude . . . And keeping in mind that this is very, very AU, the characters will not act like fifteen-year-old terrorists. They have had different life experiences. Reviews would be awesome. Now, onward!

* * *

**The Ladies' Man **

Chapter I

It was the first day of marching band – and Heero Yuy had already fallen in hate. Dread coiled tightly in his stomach as he smoothly pulled into an empty parking spot precisely thirty minutes prior to the beginning of practice. Despite however much he wanted to remain in his vehicle, Heero swiftly turned off the ignition, extracted his key, and climbed out from the black Jeep. It wasn't his style to hesitate.

Closing the driver's door with a quiet click, he walked purposefully towards the back of the car and removed his instrument from the back seat. As he moved to shut the door, he heard a group of freshman girls giggling as they gossiped and barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. After locking the car, Heero made his way towards entrance seven, trumpet case in hand. As he pushed through the doors into the high school, he pondered how different the school seemed then – empty, devoid of the overly congesting crowds. Everything rested in peculiar quiet . . . Something to which he had grown accustomed when he had extracurricular activities, early morning A.P. cram sessions, and study halls spent practicing his trumpet over the course of the past three years . . . The sense of foreboding that gripped him now, however, seemed novel and most unwelcome. He didn't feel afraid, really – only apprehensive – already convinced about the degree to which he'd hate this.

Once again, Heero wondered if it were worth it to go to such extreme lengths, to pay three hundred dollars and somany hours of his time, just for a chance to convince Relena that Duo Maxwell was bad news . . . He was, of course, and he had everyone under his spell. Though he wouldn't admit it yet, he also felt a twinge of curiosity towards the guy about whom he knew relatively little, with whom he shared common friends.

Quatre had tried for years to convince Heero to join marching band. Trowa prodded him gently, as well, though Wufei had only added his support once. However, Heero had firmly resisted, retorting that while he may enjoy concert band, he would never partake in such a band-geek-y activity. Until this year, he smirked, when he surprised them all by offhandedly announcing his commitment to the marching band. Bailey and Hedrick, the directors, had been ecstatic, albeit bewildered, when Heero wordlessly handed in his form; after all he'd never participated in any band extracurricular activities, save solo and ensemble, if that even counted.

When Quatre cautiously questioned his motives, Heero promptly and flatly informed them of the truth. The others couldn't quite believe his irrational train of thought and nearly tried to talk him out of it, but in the end, he supposed, Quatre convinced Trowa and Wufei that things would work out after Heero joined. Still, they attempted to dissuade him from his judgment of Duo's character. His conviction wavered enough, too, enough for him to admit that maybe he should find out for himself. Whether Duo was genuinely a bad person or not, however, Heero had sufficiently witnessed his shameless, almost indiscriminate flirting to feel wary and protective of his childhood friend. In any case, he reasoned, this way he'd be there and would have more reason to interfere.

His ears picked up another person's footsteps behind him, and he tensed, wondering if it were Duo Maxwell, until a voice broke the relative quiet. "Hey, Heero!"

Pausing briefly, Heero relaxed and waited, "Hello, Mr. Bailey," he greeted politely, a small smile quirking his lips.

"You excited?" The middle-aged man grinned widely at him, predictably upbeat.

Heero chuckled once, not wanting to deceive his director. "Apprehensive, actually," he decided after a moment.

Bailey let loose a merry laugh, eyes crinkling in mirth. "Apprehensive?" he asked with mock alarm and shock. "You should be excited! Come on, Heero! Oh, man, Heero . . . can't tell you how happy we are that you're with us this year . . ." he spoke sincerely, warmly smiling. "Oh! It's just going to be awesome!"

Laughing shortly but politely, Heero nodded, infected by Bailey's wealth of optimism and enthusiasm; he'd always been one of Heero's favorite teachers. "Yeah," he agreed reluctantly.

"Hey, have you seen the music yet?"

"No," Heero replied, "I couldn't come to the wind camps."

"Oh," Bailey considered his answer for a moment before shrugging and continuing. "Well, Heero, you'll be happy to know that we're really featuring the brass this year, especially the trumpets! There's going to be a really big solo, and you should definitely audition for it."

"Right. Definitely," he echoed, as Bailey slapped him heartily on the back.

"That's great! Oh, it's going to be awesome! Hey, well, you're really going to enjoy marching band," he spoke sincerely, as they came to a stop in front of his office. "It's going to be a lot of hard work – but it's more than worth it."

"So I've heard," Heero murmured.

Bailey grinned widely, "Yeah! Well, I'll see you at practice, Heero."

The trumpet player nodded in acknowledgement before walking purposefully towards the band locker room. He had not yet received his new locker assignment for the upcoming year, so he placed his affairs next to his old one. While unzipping his case, Quatre cheerfully and enthusiastically greeted him.

"Hey, Heero! You're here early, as expected," the drum major beamed.

"Hello, Quatre," he replied, returning his smile briefly. "Is Trowa here yet?"

"Oh, when is he not around Quatre?" Chloe piped in, flouncing through the doors from the band room. She smirked when she saw Quatre flush slightly. "Hey, Heero!"

Irritated by her forward friendliness, Heero merely grunted in acknowledgement, fitting his mouthpiece into his horn, twisting it once firmly.

"She's right, you know!" Heero tensed automatically, coolly regarding the infamous Duo Maxwell, who skidded to a halt next to Chloe. He wore a well-fitting red T-shirt and loose, red athletic shorts, a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses perched atop his head, pushing up against his jagged bangs. Tossed casually across his right shoulder, that famous chestnut braid gleamed softly in the low lighting, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. He was grinning widely, blue-violet eyes shimmering with mischief about which Heero was sure he didn't want to know. He was good-looking – flawless skin, heart-shaped face, upturned nose,well-shaped lips, and that hair – Heero admitted to himself, frowning. Thick lashes framed his eyes; they were large and beautiful with openness and honesty, and their unique color only added to their allure. And he understood why everyone felt so drawn to him. His frown deepened considerably when Duo casually slung an arm across her shoulders, dark blue eyes flashing dangerously. He noted Quatre's sudden nervousness but chose to ignore it.

"Hn," he grunted, flicking hisgaze away. Picking up his trumpet, he smoothly rose, a bit more comfortable now that they stood at relatively the same height.

"Hey, Heero," Duo smiled easily, extending his hand in greeting. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. I'm Duo Maxwell."

"So I've heard," he muttered softly, warily eyeing the outstretched hand. Quatre coughed lightly,prodding Heero into accepting his firm shake, which he did. "Heero Yuy," he introduced himself without fanfare, eyes still trained critically on his supposed opponent. Only, the other had yet to know this. He dropped his hand.

"At last we meet . . ." Duo drawled in jest, swaggering a step closer to the other boy, enough to make him flinch in discomfort. If the trombonist had noticed, he showed no indication or interest, for which Heero felt thankful.

"Hn," he repeated firmly, which only earned a laugh from rest. Once again, his frown deepened. It would be a long season. It would be a long year.

* * *

So what did you think? Better? Worse? No idea? It was a pretty short chapter, and I tend to get longer, as I delve more into the story. We shall see. To be honest, I don't know how far I'll go with this, and I don't know how often I'll update, but if you still feel like sticking around, I'll do my best! Review, please, if you'd like. I'd really appreciate it! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

**Note:** I've updated! As if that weren't stating the obvious . . . I would advise against getting used to this because my muse likes to take off on me sporadically. But who knows, eh? Anyway, you'll notice that this chapter is considerably longer than the first. I've been working on it for about six days now, so hopefully, it all came out okay, and you'll enjoy it. Assuming that you have read the first chapter, I'm not going to repeat the pairings and all that stuff.

Thank you so much, everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate any comments, criticisms, and questions, so long as they're constructive and, well, relevant. The plan is to reply to all the reviews I get, and since I can reply to sign reviews personally now, I won't have to spam the chapters with all those replies. As for anonymous reviews, if you leave your e-mail address, I'll reply to you personally that way, and if not, I'll reply here!

phoenixfirekitsune - Thank you very much for reviewing my fic, even though the chapter was so short:) I've been a band geek for years myself, although, now that I've graduated from high school, I don't think I'll be continuing. I don't think a lot of people realize how much workband is, how much of ourselves we put into everything, and that was part of the reason I wanted to write something about it. I played the trumpet. You might notice that slant in the fic, but hey, section pride, right? ;)

* * *

**The Ladies' Man **

Chapter II

With his usual ease, Duo brushed off Heero's cold demeanor, undeterred. "Glad to have you with us," he smiled, leaning against the lockers with his right elbow. His eyes unabashedly studied Heero's expression with mild interest, which only provoked the other boy more. "We definitely need all the trumpets we can get!"

"Yeah, especially since most of them suck," Heero remarked casually, carefully watching him, to gauge his reaction; Duo raised his eyebrows, and Chloe looked away, startled and uncomfortable.

With a nervous laugh, Quatre interjected, "Heero! That's a terrible thing to say!"

The trumpet player merely shrugged. "It was a joke," he stated blankly, but it really wasn't – not completely. "You're always telling me to lighten up." Though there were some rather exceptionally talented players, the school's band department as a whole didn't really have a strong trumpet section.

Recovering from his surprise, Duo chuckled. "Nah, he's right, Quat. Trumpets do suck," he winked, only grinning when Heero shot a less-than-friendly look his way.

Blue eyes narrowing, Heero retorted coldly, "That's not what I meant."

Duo cocked his head to the right and smirked. "Oh yeah? Then show me whatcha got . . . Prove me wrong," he challenged, shifting his weight evenly between both of his feet and crossing his arms.

His mild dislike for the so-called player flared, and his irritation stemmed from a more personal level. How dare Duo insult him? Taunt him . . . He knew he'd been right about him. Blue eyes still fixed on the other boy, he raised his mouthpiece to his lips, but Quatre stopped him, fingers clumsily curling around the bell of his horn. "No playing before rehearsal, remember?" he reminded everyone pleadingly. More kids were filing into the locker room, and several stared curiously their way.

"That's pep band, Quatre," Chloe dismissed impatiently, eager to hear Heero's demonstration. "Come on, Heero," she encouraged, smiling. "I want to hear you play!"

"Yeah!" Duo agreed. "Let's hear it! Play some runs. You've always been really good with the technical stuff."

A peculiar look crossed Heero's expression, as he allowed his arm to drop back to his side. "Why do I have to show you how I play, if you already know?" he questioned, expression guarded, suspicious.

"Well, I think I'm going to go greet some of the other new members," Chloe excused herself quickly before proceeding to sneak after one of her friends.

"Sure, I'll catch up with you later," Quatre smiled.

"Oh, yeah, see ya around, Chloe," Duo called after her with a grin and a wave. Then, managing to look a bit sheepish, he turned around, shrugged, and smiled, "I just wanted to hear you play . . ." Then he added for clarification, "Since you play so well."

"Duo!" A saxophone player shrieked, as she jumped hurriedly over the various instrument cases and dodged the bystanders to give him a hug. She effectively ended the boys' conversation. "I've missed you so much!"

Duo smiled charmingly and returned her embrace, lifting her slight frame up in his arms, "Hey, Kathy!" he greeted with nearly equal enthusiasm. "I've missed you, too!" When he finally disentangled himself from her arms, he glanced up and felt confused to see the tight-lipped glare set across Heero's face. However strange he found the situation, he didn't comment, only stared back, perplexed by the sudden shift in mood. _Strange guy._

"Excuse me," Heero said coldly, turning around to walk into the band room, although he wasn't sure why he bothered to say anything at all. Duo Maxwell was nothing but a beguiling shark, preying on any and probably every girl he saw, and there was no way Heero would allow him to get any closer to Relena.

"Hey, wait!" The trombonist called after him, taking a step forward, as if to follow the Japanese boy. "It was nice meeting you . . ." He frowned deeply, casting a questioning glance at Quatre, who only shrugged helplessly in response. "Yeesh. What's with him?" he muttered to himself with an incredulous laugh.

"No kidding!" Kathy nodded vigorously, staring for a moment after his retreating form.

With an exasperated sigh, Quatre walked closer to Duo, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, Duo . . . Heero's kind of – anti-social."

Scoffing, Duo raised an eyebrow, "Anti-social? You mean he's an ass. I don't know why you're friends with him, Q-man. He's got some serious issues," he remarked editorially.

The blonde winced. "He's not – an ass . . ." he sighed, frustrated. "You just have to get used to him. Really, he's a good guy; he's just –"

"Not that great with people," Duo interrupted, looking away from the trumpet player. He turned to face Quatre,expression contorting in disgust as a clarinetist squeaked suddenly; he bit back a laugh. "Yeah, I know. I mean, it's not like I've never seen him around, but this is the first time I've actually talked to him, and it's like he's already got a grudge on me. And – why are you blushing, Quatre? What? Does he really have a grudge on me?" Luckily, Duo continued without allowing the drum major time to answer. "Anyway, I mean, I don't want to be judgmental or anything, but he's not making such a great impression on me right now . . . Trumpet players," he scoffed, kicking a nearby plastic bottle cap away, "they always think they're better than everyone else. Tch. Anyway, Q, I'm gonna get my trombone out. I'll see you at practice, 'kay?"

"Yeah, see you, Duo," Quatre answered, running his fingers through his short, blonde locks. Things weren't going so well already . . . Quatre stubbornly reminded himself that eventually, Duo and Heero would get along; it was just a feeling he had. But it might take some intervention . . .

"So who was that guy, anyway?" Kathy inquired innocently after Duo left. "What grade's he in?"

Quatre smiled, shaking his head lightly before answering, "His name is Heero Yuy. He's in Wind Ensemble, he's a senior, and he's a new member."

"Newbie, huh?" Kathy grinned.

* * *

Some of the other trumpet players were already there, fooling around and warming up, when Heero had joined them on the fourth tier of the band room floor. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he observed two juniors he knew from Wind Ensemble out of the edge of his vision; they were trying to see who could play the highest note. Bailey would not be happy about that – no matter how much he favored the two boys. Hn. Closing his eyes briefly, he continued to run through two octave chromatic scales, no longer paying attention to the well-practiced task. It felt strange to be packed into the familiar band room with so many people, so many people he didn't know. As a string of particularly sour notes reached his ears, he grimaced – so many untalented people . . . 

He took a calculated step back with his left foot, angling himself so he could see Duo, who was animatedly gesturing as he relayed a story to some freshman new members of his section. Whatever he was saying, it couldn't carry over the chaotic sounds of the band room, and Heero only felt curious because he needed to find a way to get that shark away from Relena.

"Hey, Yuy," Wufei's voice broke Heero from his reverie.

He glanced back. "Chang," he answered, nodding in acknowledgement.

His carrier slung casually across his right shoulder, Wufei returned his gesture before his keen eyes narrowed in on Heero's object of interest. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, "So you meet Maxwell yet?" A strangled, high-pitched squeal cut sharply through the air next to him, followed by a failed attempt to match it; several people winced. That contest was over.

Recovering from the audio assault, Heero scoffed, eyes glinting harshly. "Unfortunately."

The percussionist's lip curled up in a rueful half-smile. "Come on, Yuy. He's not that bad."

Surprised, Heero creased his brow. "Not that bad?" he echoed skeptically. "You're always complaining about him."

Wufei chuckled briefly, gaze roaming absentmindedly across the room; he didn't say anything, which didn't help make his argument more convincing. In fact, Heero thought it was a pretty half-assed, half-hearted defense. After a moment, Wufei looked back up at his friend. "Well, I have to go join the rest of my section. Have fun, Yuy."

"Hn." Raising his horn to his lips, Heero resumed his warm-up. Something small and blue shot past his head, nearly grazing his right cheek, after Heero quickly stepped aside; he'd always had fast reflexes. It was a pen cap, and it landed harmlessly on the carpet a few feet away. His dark blue eyes narrowed icily, immediately targeting the source of the missile.

"Look what you did, Jordan!" Alex playfully shoved his friend back with his palm. "Sorry, Heero! Did that hit you?"

"No," Heero snapped sharply, maintaining the rather menacing glare aimed their way; and this idiot had been section captain last year.

"Oh, good," Alex smiled, ill at ease, unconsciously leaning closer to his friend. "Well, sorry, man. Jordan's just so clumsy and ow!" Whipping around, he glared half-heartedly at Jordan, feigning anger and hurt. "What was that for?" he whined, nursing his forearm, as he pouted.

Jordan rolled his eyes at him before turning to smile apologetically at Heero, brushing bangs back, away from his intensely blue eyes. "Yeah, sorry, Heero. This idiot decided it'd be fun to throw things at me, and when I tried to block that pen cap, it kind of flew in your direction . . . Excuse me," He politely slipped past Heero, bending down to retrieve the article, a sheepish smile on his face.

Heero snorted softly and grimaced in displeasure, allowing the two trumpet players to resume their playful banter. Clearly, they needed psychological help. Like most of the people present. Eyeing the podium, he saw Mr. Bailey waving his arm around in a cut off, signaling to the mostly new members that the first day of marching band practice was beginning. It was two minutes after six. _Bailey-time_, Heero smirked inwardly.

When the noise died out, Mr. Bailey beamed, his warm, hazel eyes roaming across the faces in the crowd. "Hey, everyone, and welcome to new member week! And boy, I tell ya – we are so happy that all of you guys decided to come! I'm seeing a lot of new faces in the crowd but also a lot of old faces . . . Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to be with us now – the new members for being brave enough to join our marching band and the old members for sacrificing the time to come help us out." He cast a heartfelt, meaningful look to the entire group of youngsters, who for the most part listened attentively. "Anyway, I promised I wouldn't talk too much." A smattering of giggles followed and interrupted his remark; anyone who knew Bailey knew he had a tendency to run off on tangents. "I'm going to let these," he gestured to Chloe and Quatre, who waved and smiled, "fine young people tell you about what we're doing today. They are your drum majors this year, and boy, we're lucky to have them. They're excellent musicians and excellent leaders. So without further ado," he clasped his hands together and predictably grinned widely, "they will introduce themselves."

He smiled a little – he couldn't help it – and besides, it would be impolite not to return at least some of Mr. Bailey's goodwill and general enthusiasm. "Hello, everyone! My name is Quatre Winner." Quatre flashed his mega-watt smile at all the students, and Heero's barely perceptible smile grew just a little bit in affection and recognition. At least he knew someone in this marching band who wasn't insane. Several friendlily returned Quatre's greeting.

"And I'm Chloe Pierson!" The brunette piped in, grinning and waving at the crowd. Heero looked decidedly less friendly. "I'm a junior, and this is my first year being drum major!"

"So to break the ice, we thought it'd be a good idea to play a game . . . A getting to know you game . . ." Quatre drawled slyly, feigning sinister intentions.

Heero's smile disappeared. _Fuck._ These were the consequences of hanging around underclassmen. Was it really worth it? His mind flashed back to the nauseating way Duo had been flirting with those two girls, forcing himself to renew his resolve. Stifling a sigh, Heero half-heartedly listened to the drum majors' instructions.

"Okay, no one do anything yet! On the count of three, you have thirty seconds to go find someone you've never met before – and just one person. I guess if the numbers aren't even, there can be one group of three or something, but go find someone you don't know and stand by them . . ." Chloe paused for effect, smirking as she noted all the kids ready to run. "One . . ." she flicked her green eyes briefly towards Quatre, who smiled back.

"Two . . ." he continued.

They made eye contact and nodded once before simultaneously announcing, "Three!"

And all hell must have broken loose because all of a sudden, shrieking demons started swarming chaotically through the band room, tripping over one another and screaming. Though slightly horrified, Heero critically scanned across the room, trying to locate one person, whom he did not know, who looked relatively normal and sane, but who didn't have a partner yet. Time was running out. Suddenly, he remembered a long, chestnut braid and a pair of pretty violet eyes – but that wouldn't work since he did know Duo now. Sort of. Duo, who probably had girls lined up to partner with him. And why would be want to be partners with him anyway? A part of him was curious – but only for Relena's sake, he amended harshly, raking a hand through his unkempt, brown locks.

Narrowing his blue eyes, he reached out purposefully, ready to grab the freshman flute player who stood in front of him, when someone else's hand touched him lightly on the shoulder. His skin felt warm and tingly from the contact, and he snapped around unhappily, bristling at the unwelcome physical invasion. He wasn't used to people touching him, and he didn't particularly care for it when people did. Another strike against Duo, his mind tallied, annoyed, since it was the braided boy who stood before him then, smirking slyly.

"Howdy, Heero!" He cocked his head a bit to the left, arms akimbo, hands planted firmly on his slim hips.

Guardedly, Heero peered into his eyes, examining for any traces of what his ulterior motive may be; he thought he detected a hint of animosity. Finally, he spoke, "I've met you before . . ."

Rolling his eyes, Duo dismissed the detail with a wave of his hand, nose scrunching up in distaste. "Yeah, but you don't really know me. Or at least . . ." he trailed off, eyeing the trumpet player almost defiantly. "I don't really know you."

For what seemed like a drawn out moment, which only really lasted a few seconds, their gazes were locked. "Hn," Heero snorted derisively and looked away,wondering what Duo meant by that remark – if anything at all. "Close enough," he muttered. Duo grinned.

They didn't really speak, and Heero felt somewhat grateful that Duo didn't try to make conversation. However, when he noted offhandedly that more than thirty seconds had passed, hefelt mildly surprisedthat Duo commented on it himself. "You know, thirty seconds here seems awfully like two minutes . . ." the braided boy remarked sarcastically, grinning at Heero knowingly.

"Hn," Heero grunted in agreement. "Bailey-time," he retorted noncommittally, earning a chuckle from the trombonist.

"Okay!" Quatre's voice rang out amidst the noise. "Does everyone have a partner?" He had to repeat the question several times before all the students fell quiet enough for the game to continue.

A chorus of "yes"s and "yeah"s followed, though a few kids were still scampering about, trying to find partners at the last minute.

"Okay," he paused. "Now I want everyone to tell their partner –"

"His or her!" a few smartasses reminded him good-naturedly.

Shooting them a mildly exasperated look, Quatre amended, "His or her partner two truths and a lie."

There were a few groans and a few cheers, all of which were pretty much ignored by the two drum majors. "Then," Chloe continued, "you have to introduce your partner to everyone in the room and tell us – his or her –" she smirked, "three things, and we all have to guess which one's the lie!"

"Tell us his or her name, grade, and instrument, please!" The blonde reminded everyone. "You have – three minutes . . . Go!"

Once again, the band room erupted in conversation, loud chattering, as each set of people tried to obtain the necessary information. "Well, this will be interesting," Duo mused, chuckling and shaking his head. He glanced at Heero out of the corner of his eye and shot him a lopsided smile, as he tucked part of his bangs behind his ear. "So your name is Heero Yuy . . . You're a senior, and you play the trumpet . . ." he listed slowly, smiling in triumph when he finished.

Heero was not impressed. "Your name is Duo Maxwell, you're a senior, and you play the trombone," he stated shortly. "What are your three things?" he demanded, bored, dark blue eyes fixed unnervingly on the braided trombonist.

To his credit, Duo didn't seem the slightest bit fazed and returned the favor with his own cool stare. "What are yours?" he countered finally, grinning. When Heero sighed and refused to answer, he relented, rolling his eyes. "Fine, okay, okay. Let's just get 'er done," he smirked at Heero's obvious annoyance, before falling into contemplation. "Hmm," he considered. "Well, let's see . . . I've never been out of the state, I love pie, and –" Duo wriggled his eyebrows, "I once saw a bank being robbed."

Taken aback by the last piece of information, Heero stared at him in surprise, unsure how to respond. Quickly, he recalled that one of the three was supposed to be a lie, and his mind critically reexamined what the boy had told him and, more importantly, how he told him. Usually, he could tell fairly easily when someone was telling the truth . . . Unless . . . Frowning, he managed a grunt and, without pausing, listed his two truths and a lie. "I have a dog, I enjoy science and mathematics, and I can speak French." He didn't bother making much of an effort to disguise his lie; after all, this game was stupid anyway.

Violet eyes lighting up, Duo inquired curiously, "Do you '_parlez-vous français_?'"

Heero snickered quietly, unable to contain his amusement. "Do you 'do you speak French?'" he translated dryly, smirking when he saw Duo color slightly pink.

To his surprise, Duo laughed with him, embarrassed by his own mistake, "Well, you know what I mean," he muttered, grinning all the same.

"_Mais oui_," he replied quietly, blue eyes glinting with a hint of – something – fully aware that he hadn't really answered the question. But that was the point of the game, wasn't it? Not that he cared – just – maybe he should humor them a little bit.

Duo grinned widely, shrugging his shoulders. "Can't say the same. I've taken three years of Spanish," he proudly declared. "I'm pretty fluent in Spanglish."

"Hn." It sounded almost like a chuckle.

"Stop!" Chloe cried as loudly as she could, cutting off the chatter with a dramatic wave of her arms, beaming in satisfaction when she succeeded. And the game began.

Slowly but steadily, they wound their way around the band room, learning interesting facts about the other students with whom they'd march this year. However, Heero found himself still raptly uninterested, not wasting the effort to even put names to faces, quietly waiting his turn. Naturally, Duo noticed the lack of enthusiasm from his partner and frowned, several times nudging him gently, as if to rouse the trumpet player from his state of boredom. The Japanese boy wondered why he even bothered. Maybe it was because Duo was a shark starving for attention . . . That's why he always flirted so indiscriminately. Either way, he found it aggravating and tried his best to ignore him.

There were only four people left before the game would inevitably reach them, he mused silently. When he craned his neck to the left, in an attempt to crack his stiffened joints, he sharply noticed that Duo had been watching him silently, eyes darkened and nearly purple. Embarrassed at being caught, the braided boy dropped his gaze instantaneously, blushing and muttering something unintelligible to himself.

"What?" Heero inquired, his voice low, quiet, but harsh.

"Nothing," Duo mumbled under his breath, averting his gaze to the people currently introducing each other. "Just trying to figure you out . . ." he breathed softly; it was barely audible.

While the trombonist joined in with the rest, attempting to figure out the lie from the two truths, Heero's mind worked furiously, no longer so bored. What did that look mean? Why had Duo been staring at him like that? For how long? He felt more suspicious than ever and unconsciously cast a puzzled glance towards the braided boy himself. Figure him out?

"Hey, everybody!" Duo's voice broke him away from his thoughts, and he snapped his head up in surprise when the boy's firm grip pulled him up. He grinned, as if nothing had happened. "This cute guy here is Heero Yuy. He's a senior, and he plays the trumpet!" he announced, winking. "And as far as I know, ladies, he's single!" Quite a few members whistled appreciatively, laughing.

"Duo . . ." Heero growled warningly, glaring severely at the trombone player. Somehow, no one seemed to grasp the seriousness of his displeasure and only laughed appreciatively at Duo's brazen teasing. Even Mr. Bailey and Mr. Hedrick found it humorous.

"Hush! It's not your turn yet, Heero!" Duo admonished him in jest. "Anyway, Heero here has a dog, he loves science and math, and he speaks French!"

The guessing part was fairly painless and was over quickly, and Heero felt slightly relieved, though still irritated by the trombonist's apparent lack of decorum. Without much enthusiasm, he admitted that he didn't really have a dog; it was a cat. The girls, of course, found it adorable. Then it was his turn.

"This is Duo Maxwell." He fought back the urge to roll his eyes when the students, particularly the female ones, giggled and greeted him in annoyingly whiny voices. "He's a senior, and he plays the trombone," Heero continued monotonously. "He's never been out of the state, he loves pie, and he once saw a bank being robbed."

Everyone laughed, and quite a few gasped in surprise and disbelief at the latter bit of information. "No way!"

"Well, Duo does love pie, so that can't be a lie . . ."

"There's no way you saw a bank robbery!"

"You've seriously never been out of the state?"

The guessing continued, and Heero noticed with suspicion that a sly smirk crept across the boy's expression, growing wickedly with each passing second. Quatre, Trowa, and Wufei must have known the answer – they watched the scene unfold with slight exasperation and amusement, sparing a few knowing glances at one another and at Duo, who winked. A contemplative silence fell across the group.

"Well, which one's the lie?" Hedrick inquired at last.

Beaming brightly, Duo stated simply with a shrug, "There is no lie. They're all true."

The room erupted in protest and laughter.

"That's cheating!"

"You have to have ONE lie!"

"Duo! That's not fair!"

However, Duo only laughed, "That's me! I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie!"

And as the trombonist began to recount the bank robbery story, yielding easily to the persuasion of the crowd, Heero remained silent, brow furrowed in thought, and wondered if it were true.

* * *

Done! So what did you think? Reviews would be awesome! Heero's kind of being paranoid, isn't he? Poor guy. And Duo's provoking him. Towards the end of the chapter, I just -- I didn't feel like writing out all the details, so I'm sorry if it sounded kind of choppy and blah. Gosh, two chapters, and they still haven't actually started practicing . . . Maybe next time. ;) 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

**Note:** I'm back! Ugh . . . Boring chapter. It moves pretty slowly and just basically goes through a typical first-day rehearsal from Heero's point of view. Heh. Well, if you ever wanted to know the logistics of marching band -- here you go! According to my former band's standards, in any case, capricious as they were . . . Anyway, I really felt like I had to spend some time, especially on the first day, since it's a story that has a great deal to do with marching band. You'll get some background on Heero, though! And a little bit on couple of other people. The section rivalry/pride thing also comes out a little bit. There isn't much interaction with the boys, but we'll definitely get into that later. Promise. ;)

I'm trying to write a more realistic story ("trying" being the key word), so their relationship won't change too quickly. Please bear with me!

I had a pretty hard time trying to come up with a stopping point for this chapter, as it seemed to just kind of drag . . . Oh, and for that, I apologize. In any case, the next chapters will most likely proceed faster. I'm still not quite done with the first day of rehearsal, but I won't spend nearly as much time or be so detailed about it after this one.

I'll try to keep writing and updating fairly regularly, but I just recently got a job (finally) and will probably work about twenty-five hours a week. I also have orientation at IU on Monday and Tuesday. Wish me luck!

Anyway, please enjoy chapter three, and let me know what you think!

* * *

phoenixfirekitsune - Thank you so much for reviewing again! As for the game -- I didn't actually remember the whole Duo-doesn't-lie thing until after I started writing it all out . . . And then it was written, and I already had this whole idea of how to end the chapter, so the game stuck! Don't be offended by the clarinet squeak. :) It happens! Reed instruments squeak. Trust me; plenty of brass will be "a-fracking." ;) I'll try to remain as neutral as possible, but I am still a trumpet player at heart. grins Thanks again! 

Juliana - I e-mailed my reply to you, and so I'm hoping you got it:)

* * *

**The Ladies' Man **

Chapter III

For the next twenty minutes, they stretched slowly. The directors described in detail the affected muscle groups in each case and explained the reason for which they included it in their routine. Heero found it longwinded, exasperating, and unnecessary. But he felt grateful that it was relatively quiet. The younger members continued to giggle and fumble their way through the exercise . . . Well, he took that back, sighing when he noticed Alex and Jordan, the wonder boys of Wind Ensemble, were messing around with one another, as usual.

As Quatre instructed them to pull their right arms across their body with their left, Alex mischievously smirked and twisted his upper body back, and letting go, effectively smacked Jordan with his arm. Yelping in surprise, Jordan returned the favor, grinning. A few craned their necks to see what had happened, chuckling silently. What were they? Five? To the best of his ability, Heero continued to ignore them – or at least didn't look in their direction. Instead he peered discreetly at the other side of the band room, where the low brass stood.

He felt stunned.

Duo stood perfectly still, eyes fixed on some intangible dot straight in front of him, body rigid, mouth set in a firm line of discipline. Heero noticed that the rest of the trombones and baritones mirrored his stance, though some of the new members struggled, and some of the older ones were out of practice. What the hell? Vaguely, he remembered watching the band during the football games – he'd noticed then, as well, that the low brass stood the entire game, though the rest of the group did not. At the time, he found it strange but dismissed it quickly, since it didn't really matter, but now . . . He was curious.

For the remainder of the exercise, Heero observed the band room, feeling out of place, even though it was new member week. He'd been in band since the sixth grade, and he recognized a good number of people there from Wind Ensemble, from school, and yet – he felt like an intruder now.

Bailey introduced the breathing exercises with which Heero was relatively familiar. Sometimes, they'd do this in band before warming up. Loosely intertwining his fingers, he set his hands gently against his abdomen. He shifted his feet so they stood shoulder-width apart and breathed in deeply, as evenly as he could, for eight counts, which Bailey dictated, snapping his fingers together. His abdomen steadily rose and fell, and he could feel his diaphragm stretching almost painfully toward the end and adjusted his volume of air next time.

". . . two, three, four, and out, two, three . . ." The director spoke just loudly enough to be audible, his manner subdued and serious. "Keep the air moving. Don't stop . . . Just keep going. Blocks of air. Come on, guys. In for four, out for sixteen."

Focusing solely on his breathing, Heero felt the majority of his tension flow out of his body, melt away from his dense muscles. It grounded him a bit more, but he felt almost light-headed, brain unaccustomed to the extra oxygen. None of the students uttered a word, their collective, synchronized breathing filling up the room.

As they continued the exercise, Heero was able to take in more air, and it became easier to immediately switch from breathing in, to breathing out, without pausing.

"Come on. One more . . . One, two, three, four, and out . . ." Mr. Bailey continued to snap his fingers with the steadiness of a metronome, as Mr. Hedrick and the drill techs combed through the band room, ensuring that the students were breathing correctly. "And stop."

Mr. Bailey grinned widely at the band. "Good job, everyone! Okay, now, we're going to go ahead and pass out some music. Then I'm going to call you by section. When I do, I want one person from each section to come up and get one warm-up packet for everyone in your section. Okay. Let's start with – the flutes!"

As the directors sorted and passed out the music, the band room burst into lively chatter once again. Heero remained silent and continued to watch the students.

"Hey, Heero." He turned around expectantly; it was Alex. "How's it going?"

"Fine," he replied, glancing over at him for a brief moment; Jordan was busy entertaining one of the saxophone players. Taylor or something. "For you?"

"Good, good . . ." he nodded, smiling. After a moment of pause, he spoke again. "So – how do you like marching band so far?"

"I don't," he stated flatly.

The taller boy laughed outright, caught off guard by Heero's blunt honesty. "Oh, okay . . . Uh . . . I'm sorry you feel that way . . .?" he tried, chuckling again, at a loss for words.

"Hn."

"Well, it'll get better. I promise. I mean, I know we're kind of moving really slowly now, but things will pick up, and you'll start to miss the down time," assured Alex confidently. Heero didn't particularly appreciate advice from someone younger than him – even though the boy did have more experience.

"Trumpets!"

"Oh, well, that's me, I guess," Alex grinned brightly, starting down the tiers towards the podium. "I'll be right back!"

Grunting in acknowledgement, Heero watched him quickly hop down the wide steps, weaving through the crowd. Alex was charismatic, though when he didn't smile, he seemed a little bit fierce and unapproachable. He was tall, blonde, attractive, and talented . . . Principal chair trumpet player in Wind Ensemble. The only other one who came close to his skill level was his best friend, Jordan. For as long as Heero had known them, they'd shared an unspoken, friendly rivalry. But in junior high, he thought that Jordan resented the blonde a little – bitterness and anger flashing across his expression, whenever Alex had gotten the solo, whenever Alex placed first . . . Heero noticed. Because he was familiar with that disappointment.

Heero didn't like being second best and rarely settled for it. However, no matter how technically skilled he became or how much he practiced, he never could best either of them . . . Especially not the directors' Golden Boy. His lessons teacher would always lament the lack of emotion in his playing; something always held him back. Alex, conversely, played with passion, with feeling, his tone quality clear, beautiful, and warm – peerless – something that Heero, along with many others, admired. He envied it, and he was sure Jordan did, as well. That gorgeous, full sound, his soloist quality by which audiences were captivated, often landed him in the limelight.

Neither of Heero's parents were musicians. During fifth grade, they'd spent a class period trying out different instruments, so that next year they would know whether they wanted to participate in band, choir, or orchestra. He'd picked up a trumpet out of curiosity and played a few notes. Mr. Bailey had been impressed with his natural talent and strongly recommended that he learn how to play . . . For the next five years he had enjoyable experiences playing his instrument and played well enough to easily make the top band. That was it.

And now, he'd become a member of the marching band . . .

"I'm back!" Alex announced, waving the sheet music a few times. Though he spoke to Heero, his eyes strayed, searching for Jordan. "Jordan!" he called, when he spotted his friend. "Help me pass this stuff out!" Then, he shifted his attention back to the Japanese boy; leafing through the packets, he parted one from the stack and held it out. "Here you go, Heero. First trumpet," he grinned widely.

Heero accepted the music. "Thanks."

"Uh-huh," acknowledged Alex, as he proceeded with his assigned task. He paused, however, and backtracked. "Oh, and when you see a divisi, go ahead and play the top part!" Flipping open the packet to the show music, he traced an example with his finger.

"Okay." He allowed himself to smile just a little bit to return some of Alex's friendliness, when the other boy had backed away.

Though he still felt envious of the two boys' superior abilities, he'd learned eventually to live with playing third chair.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he examined the packet Alex had given him, thumbing through the pages. Some of the warm-ups were familiar, exercises they'd played in concert band, but the rest were new . . . Mentally, he ran through a few, fingering the notes. A few years ago, he'd begun to actively train his relative pitch through forcing himself to memorize the difference between the intervals. Reminded of the sound of a certain note, he could fairly easily hear in his mind the music written across the page.

He flipped to the parade tune. "Carry on Wayward Son." It came from the pep band folder; Heero remembered hearing the band play it during the basketball games. Satisfied with the choice, Heero glanced up and noticed that the majority of students liked the song pretty well. A few struck up the tune upon receipt of the music, and more kids, who had played the song before, joined them.

Mr. Bailey glanced up from the remaining stack of packets. "Hey, don't play, you guys. No playing," he reminded them firmly, passing the rest of the music to Duo. When they quietly obeyed, he looked back at Duo, smiling. They exchanged a few words and shared a laugh before the trombonist jogged back up to join his section.

"Sousaphones!" Hedrick called, rifling through his own stack of music.

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion . . ." Alex's voice filtered through the noise, as he made his way back to his instrument, swaying slightly in rhythm. He caught Heero's eye and grinned.

A few within hearing range grinned back and sang with him. "Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion. I was soaring ever higher . . . But I flew too high!"

Jordan followed him shortly, purposely bumping into his friend, feigning innocence when the boy turned around to glare at him. He smiled and sang softly, "Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man. Though my mind could think I still was a mad man . . ."

Rolling his eyes a bit, Alex relented and smiled back, picking up where Jordan had stopped. "I hear the voices when I'm dreamin' –"

"I can hear them say!" They sang together and actually matched their pitches fairly well, given a short moment.

"Come on, Heero!" Alex urged, flicking his gaze briefly toward the senior. "Sing it with us!"

"I don't know the words," Heero replied, much to the boys' disappointment. Even if he did, he wouldn't.

"Aww!"

"We'll have to teach you sometime," Jordan offered vaguely with a shrug.

They continued to sing, more loudly now, as they gained more voices. Soon enough, almost half of the band had joined them. Hedrick was smirking, shaking his head lightly, exchanging a look with Bailey, who laughed merrily, amused by the students' enthusiasm and poor singing.

"Carry on my wayward son! There'll be peace when you are done . . . Lay your weary head to rest! Don't you cry – don't you cry no more!" They finished, laughing and cheering.

When the noise died down, Mr. Hedrick drawled slowly, "Well, now that we know why you're all in band and NOT choir . . ." He trailed off teasingly, only grinning and chuckling when the students protested his insult. The other staff members laughed, too, as did some of the students.

"Okay, okay," Mr. Bailey cut in, smiling broadly, "settle down, folks. The first thing we're going to do is learn attention. So old members, I'd like you to demonstrate first. The drum majors will give you the command," he made eye contact with Quatre and Chloe.

They looked at each other and clapped loudly four times. "Band, 'Ten-hut!" They'd continued clapping four more beats, as they gave the oral command.

"Yes!" The affirmative echoed soundly in the room, as the older members snapped to attention. It was messy and out of practice, but the new people seemed sufficiently impressed and startled. The girl standing next to Heero looked slightly apprehensive; she caught his eye and flashed him a nervous smile, raising her eyebrows. He shrugged and slid his gaze smoothly away to his right, where Alex and Jordan stood. Their expressions were completely serious, if not a bit fierce, their bodies rigid and straight.

He immediately looked towards the podium again, when Quatre and Chloe clapped again in the same manner. "Band! At ease!" they commanded, and instantaneously, the older members moved their right feet out, shoulder-width apart, relaxing their arms and shoulders.

Hedrick made them demonstrate it once more the same way, then told them to pick up their horns to show the attention and at-ease positions carrying their respective instruments. Carefully, Heero watched Jordan and Alex, noting to himself how they held their trumpets, where they placed their hands, how they stood, their expressions . . . He tried to memorize the information quickly, before the drum majors called them to at-ease again. Assured that it didn't seem too difficult, he instinctively looked toward the other end of the band room, searching for Duo. Meticulously sliding his gaze across the trombonist's form, he childishly looked for flaws – any flaws – almost disappointed when it became apparent that Duo knew what he was doing.

Hedrick allowed the students five minutes during which the older members walked the new members through each position. When he told them to break, Alex hurriedly gestured for the trumpets to gather around him. They formed a crooked circle.

"Okay. So at-ease," Alex began. "Get your feet shoulder width apart. Good. Okay, stand up straight, but relax . . . Good. Lift your chin up about ten degrees above parallel . . . Good, good," he murmured. "Okay. When they call you to attention, bring your right foot into your left really quickly. Make sure that your heels and toes are touching. Good job. Make sure your knees aren't bent, but DON'T lock them!" he warned. The older members laughed.

"Unless you want to cut off your blood flow and pass out," one of them joked, grinning. Jennifer or something. It roused a few laughs.

"Right . . . We don't want any of you passing out," Alex grinned. "Anyway, so then, you need suck in your gut and puff out your chest, like you see some hot guy or girl and want to impress them."

"Him or her!" One of the new members commented, and Alex threw him a mockingly dirty look.

"Him or her . . ." he sighed. When he noticed Jordan's smirk, he rolled his eyes and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Who needs proper grammar anyway?" he muttered but smiled.

Laughing, Jordan looked back at the new members. "And make sure you're – clenching your butt," he instructed, suppressing a smile.

"What?" The new members looked strangely at one another, not quite believing it.

"Yeah!" Alex agreed, smirking. "What was it that Hedrick always says?"

"Pretend your trying to hold a grape in there . . . You don't want to drop it, but you don't want to make a raisin!" Natalia supplied brightly. Everyone burst out laughing; Heero chuckled appreciatively as well, shaking his head slightly. If there were a teacher he liked more than Mr. Bailey, it'd have to be Mr. Hedrick; he was on of the nicest people Heero ever had the privilege to know – he was funny and kind and endlessly patient – or so it would seem – even when Mr. Bailey would become frustrated.

"Anyway," Alex continued, attempting to rein his section back into focus, "So your feet are together, your legs are straight but not locked, you've sucked in your gut, puffed out your chest, and clenched your – gluteus maximus . . . Now, put your arms at your side and bend your elbows a little bit . . . That's it. Your hands are in loose, closed fists, thumbs tucked in. Yup. Your middle finger should be touching the seam of pants on either side. Good job. Now, roll your shoulders up, back, and down. Older members, go ahead and check the new people out and tell them to adjust or whatever . . ." he trailed off, eyes scanning the crowd, as well. "Okay, now you just need to hold your chin about ten degrees above parallel. Look straight ahead at some fixed point. Excellent. Now, DON'T MOVE," he cautioned threateningly.

Slowly, he circled around the section, examining each individual quickly but thoroughly, murmuring advice when needed. Heero didn't see much, only the older members' vague figures passing through and around the peripheries of his vision. Alex walked directly in front of him and smiled. "Perfect," he pronounced approvingly in a soft whisper. "Good job, Heero."

Though the Japanese boy did not outwardly respond, he felt a strange flush of pride, as he steeled himself in the foreign position, completely tense and fully aware of his entire body. It felt a little more than uncomfortable, but he continued holding himself the way Alex and the older members had instructed, wondering when they'd be allowed to relax.

"Okay, go ahead and relax, guys. You guys did really well," the blonde complimented, flashing them a large grin. "Now, go pick up your instruments carefully, and we'll do this with –"

"About two minutes left! Two minutes!"

"Shit," Alex swore softly. "Okay, guys, hurry up!"

"Figures that they'd be on time now . . ." Jordan remarked sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

His friend snorted in agreement, "No kidding. Okay, so at-ease with your instrument is really easy. It's basically the same thing except you hold your trumpet in your left hand, like you do when you play, and just put your right hand over it," he explained with urgency, as he demonstrated with his own horn. "And when you go to attention, you need to sort of – make a triangle with your – arms and . . . Okay, just do this." He forwent the verbal explanation impatiently and settled for visual representation.

Others jumped in to assist him. "Make sure that your horn is basically perpendicular to the ground."

"That curve-thing closest to your mouthpiece . . . That should be at eye-level."

"And make sure your horn is two fists away from your chest."

"Don't lean back! Keep standing up straight and stand tall. No slouching, either!"

"Okay! Everyone got it?" Alex interrupted the information flow, not bothering to listen to the response. "Good. Relax for a second. We're going to call you to attention now, as many times as we can, so you can get used to how it feels, okay? Remember that it's one fluid motion. Just snap every part of your body into place at the same time." He turned to Jordan expectantly. "Jordan? Would you like to do the honors?"

The black-haired boy smiled, "Of course," he replied politely – if his tone seemed a bit exaggerated. Then, he clapped loudly, steadily, and in a startling commanding voice, he called them to attention, much like the drum majors had done. "Trumpets! 'Ten-hut!"

"Yes!"

Alex, clapping considerably more quickly, followed, "Trumpets! At ease!"

Grinning, Jordan briefly made eye contact with him, picking up on his intentions immediately. Matching his speed, he, without missing a beat, called them to attention again. "Trumpets! 'Ten-hut!"

"Trumpets! At ease!"

They barely allowed their section time to settle into each position before they gave the other command, leaving the members, new and old, laughing. While this raucous mood didn't do much in terms of discipline, Heero supposed that they at least had a few more practices . . . As useless as they were, considering the new members gave up easily, once they stopped taking the situation seriously.

"Whoo! Go, Heero!" Someone cheered.

"Ow-ow!"

Predictably, the Japanese boy ignored them, sighing internally, as he wondered what they'd do next. He didn't need to wait too long. Mr. Hedrick finally regained control over the group about thirty seconds later, when Alex began to show them how to hold their horns properly when they played.

"Oh, well, I guess times up," Alex shrugged, grinning at the group. "Get back in line!" he commanded with a glare, mockingly stern, earning several knowing laughs from the trumpets. Heero narrowed his eyes – it was an obvious shot at the low brass. Peering at the trombones and baritones briefly, Heero observed Duo and Brad's tactics of instructing and commanding their section. It seemed a bit militaristic, he mused.

"We're going to go through some of the warm-ups," Bailey informed the group. "Let's start with some long tones, just to get the air moving again. The purpose of this exercise is to listen for ensemble balance and intonation. Turn to page one, please," he instructed, flipping his own score, as he spoke.

The atmosphere became quiet and serious once again. Heero obeyed unhurriedly, and when he noticed Alex and Jordan had already positioned their horns in playing position, he mirrored their stance and waited. Allowing his gaze to wander a bit, he discreetly observed the band, noting the differences between each section, fascinated by the exaggerated dynamic. The woodwinds generally did not seem as disciplined as the brass – and no one was more serious than the low brass. The sousaphones moved a little bit lethargically, but it could be attributed to the size of their instruments that coiled up and around their bodies.

Mr. Bailey made eye contact with the group, as he continued to instruct the winds. "Okay, the drum majors will give you four beats ahead of time, and then come in on the next beat. Remember to crescendo during the last three counts of the exercise. Just keep on pushing that air through," he gestured for emphasis. Those of you who know how to mark time, you can go ahead and do it, if you want, but you don't have to. Not tonight. Let's just concentrate on playing the music correctly."

Not unexpectedly, some musicians forgot the instructions and began to play as soon as the drum majors' hands started to move. Though startled, the group recovered quickly enough, the majority coming in at the correct time. They hit the F concert; it was out of tune.

"Listen, you guys! Match pitches!" Mr. Bailey reminded them, and to Heero's surprise – the intonation improved a considerable amount. Though the effect occurred gradually, the effort had been immediate. Perhaps there was hope for this group yet, he thought wryly.

The rest of the warm-up sequence proceeded uneventfully, though some moments were unsurprisingly messy – wrong notes and rhythms, awful intonation, unclear articulation, unheeded dynamics, and poor tone quality. But that was to be expected . . . Though a decent number of older members had came, the new members outnumbered them by far . . . And with few exceptions, such as Heero himself, most of them were freshman and below, still relatively inexperienced players. However, overall, Heero felt the winds had exceed, albeit only slightly, his previous expectations. Maybe it wouldn't be as horrid as he'd imagined.

It occurred to the Japanese boy then that he hadn't really been preoccupied with Duo and Relena for the majority of the rehearsal thus far. Even the braided boy's earlier audacity no longer seemed so – dire . . .

Just as they finished playing through the chorale, an abrupt clap of thunder sounded, startling the group. Their focus shaken, the students quietly began to look around, murmuring amongst themselves. Quickly, the older members and the staff shushed them, reminding the kids of the no-talking policy during practice.

However, Mr. Bailey had momentarily paused rehearsal, exchanging looks with the drill techs and Mr. Hedrick, as the beginnings of a helpless smile twitched at the corners of his lips. They shrugged, as Mr. Hedrick purposefully strode towards the double doors that lead to the small parking lot beside the band room. Pushing a door slightly ajar, the assistant director peered into the darkness outside, sky swathed with deep gray, ominous clouds, from Heero's vantage point. However, as Alex and Jordan remained steadfast, still holding up their trumpets in playing position, Heero didn't move, didn't relax like the majority of the new members, as much as his muscles complained in protest. It was amazing how much effort it took just to hold his trumpet up correctly – it was something he hadn't anticipated, though that list continued to grow with each passing moment. He allowed his eyes to wander, since the leaders did the same.

"You guys can relax."

Heero dropped his arms, holding onto his trumpet firmly with his left hand. He shook his limbs out silently, trying to relieve the ache and tension that knotted his shoulders and his arms. Curiously, he stepped to the side, so he could better gauge the weather's current condition. Pitter. Patter. The first drops of rain fell against the pavement, against the grass. He saw a few flashes of lightning in the distance.

Hedrick stepped back and closed the door quietly. He turned to the group, smiling apologetically at Mr. Bailey. "Well! Looks like we're not going outside tonight!" he shrugged with a chuckle.

A few cheered, and some others feigned disappointment.

Bailey sighed, though he returned his colleague's smile. "I guess we'll just work on music for the rest of the night," he said, turning his attention to the score spread out in front of him.

"Guess so!" Mr. Hedrick agreed. "So did you want to have them split up now . . .? Or did you want to run through the tune first as a group?" he inquired, moving back towards the podium.

"Hmm . . . I guess we can run through it once," Bailey furrowed his brow in consideration.

"Just so they can hear how it sounds . . ." Hedrick finished for him, already nodding in accord.

"Right. Then we'll give them some time in sectionals." Mr. Bailey scanned the crowd, motioning for the students to stop talking. "Okay, guys. We're done warming up, and now we're going to split up for sectionals for about – an hour or so . . . I'll call you by section and tell you which staff member to go with. Let's meet back here at about eight o'clock. Then we'll run through the parade tune a couple of times. But first, let's just run through thetune once, so you all can get an idea of how it sounds. We're not going to stop – unless there's a huge disaster or something. Okay. Horns up, everyone."

Obediently, the students positioned their horns into playing position, carefully eyeing the podium out of the corners of their eyes, the rest of their attention devoted to the music. The drum majors conducted four beats, and the low brass and reeds came in immediately with the melody. It sounded pretty decent. Heero played the accompaniment meticulously, trying to match the length of his staccato quarter notes with Alex and Jordan. The rest of the section, however, didn't seem to notice the articulation and blasted through the line messily. They hit wrong notes and played at the wrong times – but everything seemed to pull together as they started the main theme. As with the warm-ups, there had been moments of utter confusion, during which Mr. Bailey only shook his head, shouted reminders to them, and pushed on. Heero began to wonder what his definition of "disaster" was. With the older members, particularly the ones who were involved with the pep band, they managed to play through the entire piece.

Though his lips were still fresh, he noticed that everyone played quite loudly during the run-through, everything some variation of forte. Most people hadn't even bothered with the dynamics . . . He hoped that the rest of the season would not offer the same lack of musical discipline.

"Okay," Bailey smiled brightly at the students. "Good job! Now I'm going to call you by section and tell you who to go with. They'll know what to work on, and hopefully, when we come back, this tune will be pretty solid. Okay. Flutes – go with Kristine. Clarinets – Michael and Jessica . . ." As Mr. Bailey called them by section once more, their respective staff members waved and motioned for them to follow.

Obediently, they broke from the group, scattering and filtering into the hallways around the band area. Heero watched them intently, for the lack of anything better to do, as he waited for Bailey to call his section with mild impatience. Most likely, Joshua Gordon would be in charge of them; he was a graduate of their school a couple of years ago. Heero knew him from Wind Ensemble.

"Trumpets, go with Josh."

The portly trumpet player smiled at them, weaving through the remaining people in the band room quickly to join their section. "Hey, guys. Go ahead and take your stand with you."

Heero wasn't sure where they'd go, so he trailed behind Alex and Jordan, as they exited the band room and walked into the surrounding hallways.

Suddenly, the two trumpet players stopped, five feet away from the trombone section. "What the hell?" Jordan muttered. He turned to his side, facing Alex, irritation evident in his expression.

"They split up the low brass," the blonde sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "Where are we going to go now?"

"Hey, sorry, guys," Duo's familiar, smooth voice carried easily to Heero's ears. His smile was apologetic, even a bit sheepish, though one couldn't hold him accountable for the problem. "I don't know why they split us up either . . ." he shrugged helplessly.

Though he clearly spoke to the two leaders of the trumpet section, he looked over at the Japanese boy at the end of his sentence, blue-violet eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary. His smile didn't change, Heero observed guardedly, but his eyes did . . . It abruptly reminded him of the game – when he'd caught Duo staring at him – and his chest tightened a bit for no apparent reason, as he returned the gesture, expression decidedly neutral.

"That's crap!" Alex declared, lips curved in a half-smile.

"Total bullshit," Duo agreed, smiling wryly at their section's leader.

Kyle spared him a warning glare. "Language, Maxwell," he reminded him.

The braided boy shrugged, grinning cheekily, knowing that the caution was half-hearted at best. "Well, it is bullshit," he protested.

"Yeah, well, Bailey wanted it that way, so that's how it's going to be," the college student retorted. "Okay, trombones. Let's get going. And trumpets . . ." he glanced over his shoulder, "Get the hell out. We're trying to get some work done." A series of impressed "ooh"s followed. Heero narrowed his eyes.

Smiling sweetly, Jordan smoothly flipped the drill tech off with his free hand. "Love you, too," he muttered sarcastically.

"Why don't you get the hell out of our spot?" Alex asked him coolly, shoulders tensing. By then, the rest of the trumpet section had emerged from the band room, gathering behind him silently. The students watched the standoff with nervous anticipation.

"Uh, we were here first . . ." Kyle snorted. "And it's not like your name's written on it or anything."

"You know this is our spot, Benson. We've always been here," Jordan explained mildly, as he took a step closer.

"Well, you're not here now," Kyle replied shortly. "Okay, trombones. Let's start from the top. I'll give you four beats ahead of time." Ignoring the trumpets players, particularly the unofficial leaders, he raised his arms and began conducting.

"Shit," Alex swore, shaking his head, clearly irate, though he decided to back off. "Fucking low brass," he muttered lowly, as the trombones began to rehearse. "Do they always have to be such assholes?"

Rounding the corner, Josh caught those last words and frowned, as he approached his section. "What's going on, Alex?" he asked, concerned. "What happened?"

The blonde slowly turned to face him, exasperated. "They split the low brass up, and the trombones took our spots. Then Prick over there told us to 'get the hell out,' like he fu – freakin' owns the place," he sighed.

Josh furrowed his brow deeply, surprised by the situation. He flicked his eyes briefly towards Kyle out of curiosity, then to Duo. "And what did Duo say?"

"He didn't say anything," muttered Alex.

"He did apologize for it earlier, before Kyle said that crap," Jordan added.

After a moment of silence, Josh glanced quickly over the trumpet section, who stood awkwardly at the sidelines, before making eye contact with Alex, Jordan, and Heero – to his surprise. "Let's just go," he murmured, walking swiftly out of the music department, towards the cafeteria.

Grudgingly, the trumpet players followed. Heero lingered for a while longer, watching Duo as the braided boy rehearsed with the rest of his section. His horn rested still, ten degrees above parallel, refusing to betray the steadfast motion of his legs, as he marked time with the music. His expression was determined. For a moment Heero wondered what Duo thought of all this. He hadn't said anything during the exchange, but –

As the remaining members of his section finally left, Heero turned around slowly and followed them. Up ahead, he could see Alex and Jordan walking closer together now, heads bowed in quiet conversation, occasionally speaking to Josh, most likely to ask for his opinion. The other trumpet players had broken out into quiet chatter, animatedly but softly discussing what had just happened. Heero wondered about it himself . . . _What the hell_ did _just happen?_

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It seems like every chapter, Heero gets more confused . . . Hehe. So what did you think of this chapter? I would love a review from you. :) Hopefully, it didn't bore anyone too much . . . If anyone's wondering why Duo didn't say anything, it will be explained! Well, to the best of my ability. I'm not that great with explaining stuff. XD Anyway, I hoped you all liked it! 


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

**Note:** Hello, guys. I apologize for the long wait for this chapter, but I don't know – it was really painful to write for some reason. I just – I didn't know how to go with it. Heh. I'm not too sure about the next chapter either, but I think it's to a point where I can start going faster and skipping some of the less interesting details. :) Anyway, as soon as I start writing it, I should be able to get going . . . Hopefully it'll go better than this one! Anyway, suggestions, comments, questions, and criticism are welcome!

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phoenixfirekitsune: Thank you for reviewing again! That's really interesting about your band! It's weird for me to think about just because my band was – well, my band. For a number of years, we were not very good . . . It wasn't about the competition, and it was more about the performance. God, one year we had "That Nascar Show," which was awful. We played, uh, classical music (Magic Flute, William Tell, Can-Can) with that theme. Worst show ever. We got a new director this year, and he really helped whip us into shape, so we were doing much better. Anyway, thanks again for the review!

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**The Ladies' Man**

**Chapter IV**

As they quietly filed down the hallway, Heero remained fixated on Duo, the boy who seemed to grow more complex every moment. He'd assumed – well, he'd assumed a lot of things that might not have been true . . . He forced himself to admit it. Not that he liked the trombonist's personality any more than he had previously; in fact, Heero found his forward nature intrusive and uncomfortable. Duo seemed overly familiar with everyone, including Heero. That much was clear tonight.

He absently noted that they'd walked past the empty cafeteria and the courtyard, slowing to a stop in the commons area, the main hall spreading out on either side of them.

When he glanced up, he noticed Josh preparing to speak. "All right, guys. This looks good." As if to confirm the statement, his gaze swept over the area efficiently, as he nodded in satisfaction. "Okay. First trumpets, stay here, and seconds and thirds – come with me."

Heero frowned; he hadn't expected this to happen. Perhaps this had been one of the points Alex, Jordan, and Josh had been discussing on the way here. However wrapped up in his thoughts, his sensitive ears picked up on the rest of the information.

"Since Nate isn't here tonight, you guys will be on your own," he informed the first trumpets. "Alex will be in charge." He smiled, and the rest of the new members looked toward the blonde in expectation.

Alex chuckled lightly and nodded in acknowledgement. "Sure," he replied, voice surprisingly devoid of the smugness Heero had expected. He turned to look at the rest of his section. "Well, you kids have fun!"

They laughed and responded appropriately, while Heero remained silent, watching them leave. As they disappeared into the large corridor leading into the A wing of the school, he returned his attention to those who remained. There were only six students playing the first trumpet part. His blue eyes quickly scanned over the crowd – Jordan to his right, and the rest formed in a crooked semi-arc to his left. He recognized all of them either from Wind Ensemble or in passing; their faces were familiar. Natalia, Michael, and Kaiden. And as far as he knew, they all played well.

Alex set his stand in front of the group gently, the metal legs scraping across the smooth stone tiles. Following his lead, the rest of the section did the same and adjusted their stands so they could see everything with relative ease.

"Okay," their temporary leader began. "Since we've warmed up and everything, let's just taking a tuning note. Let's just do G, A, B, C," he instructed them, singing the pitches softly, and lifted his horn up to his lips.

He signaled for them to breath by sweeping his horn up in an exaggerated prep, lowering his bell appropriately to indicate when to come in. With a pang of envy, Heero noted that Alex had sung the correct pitch before they played it. However, he brushed his thoughts aside in favor of matching his pitch with those around him. Surprisingly, they required virtually no adjusting, already holding out the note with near-perfect intonation – amongst themselves, at least.

Pleased, Alex grinned at them happily. "Good. And ha! I totally called that G," he bragged good-naturedly.

The others laughed and rolled their eyes.

"Okay. Let's start from the beginning, I guess," Alex suggested, as he quickly glanced over the music. "I'll give you four, and just come in. Mark time, if you want," he added absently. Suddenly, Heero became all too aware that he was the only new member in the group.

Mentally sighing, he pushed his anxiety more deeply into his mind and took a solid breath a beat before the first note with his section, as they played through the tune in a quick tempo. Alex ran rehearsal at a moderately easy pace, since there were no poor trumpet players holding them back. They played through the music a few times, stopping between each run to point out things that needed work, along with things they had done well. Once again, Heero found himself admiring the junior's leadership and the ease with which he interacted with people. Alex was laidback, and he allowed and encouraged everyone to give input while still maintaining his own position of leadership. People respected him. Both as a player and as a person. They liked him.

The rest of sectionals passed uneventfully but productively, enough so that he'd nearly forgotten the incident with the trombones -- until Duo had approached him after practice.

Well, truthfully, Duo had approached Alex, Jordan, and himself in the locker room. As soon as he dismissed his section, he jogged towards the three, while they were putting their instruments away. Alex had glanced up and caught his eye.

"Hey, Duo," he greeted him, curious. "What's up?"

"Hey, guys," Duo smiled and acknowledged the three trumpet players friendlily but cautiously. "Look, uh, about Kyle . . ." he began hesitantly.

Grabbing the handle of his trumpet case, Heero rose, eyeing the braided boy carefully underneath his bangs. "What about him?" His voice was quiet but clear, startling the boys. He cocked an eyebrow and boldly took a step closer to the trombonist.

If he had felt uncomfortable, he didn't show it. Duo met the intensity of his gaze evenly, "I'm sorry for what he did," he apologized. "It was kind of out of line."

"Yeah, well, you could have said something, you know," Alex pushed himself up from his knees and crossed his arms.

Duo looked away and chuckled lowly. "Yeah, I could have . . ." he paused. "But it wasn't my place."

"It wasn't your place?" Alex clearly still felt irritated by the incident. "You were freaking section captain last year. And the year before that. You should have said something, if you really didn't think what he did was right."

"I'm not section captain now, Alex," his blue-violet eyes had grown a shade darker, flashing in the light. "And neither are you."

The trumpet player scoffed, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? But whatever. That's not what this is about. Don't take it lying down because I sure as hell won't. If something like that happens again, and he disrespects me – my entire section – I'm going to talk to Bailey and Hedrick about it."

"He was just joking! He took it too far, all right? But he's not a bad guy . . ." Duo burst out incredulously. "He didn't mean anything by it, and you know it!"

"Oh, yeah right," Alex spat sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Duo. You know he's a fucking prick! He always walks around with this superior attitude, like he's better than everyone else, and I'm sick of it!"

Lips pursed into a thin line, Duo narrowed his eyes. "Look, Alex. I'm sorry about what he did and what he said. I talked to him about it, too, and –"

The trumpet player cut him off, "You talked to him? And he's obviously not sorry at all, or else he'd be here instead of you, huh? Stop making excuses for him just because he's in charge of your section."

Duo sighed and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his nerves. "Okay, look. I'll say this again, in case you didn't get it the first two times. I'm sorry about what he did. He can act like a jerk sometimes, but we're just going to have to deal with it. He's always got the band's best interest in mind, and he's just trying to make us better. But don't make me responsible for what he says or does. In case you didn't notice – he's got more say than any of us! He went too far, yeah, okay. But you're overreacting!"

Scoffing, Alex didn't say anything for a moment, allowing the silence to stretch between them. "I'm not making you responsible for what he does, Duo," he sighed finally.

"Well, you're taking it out on me."

"No, I'm not! I'm just kind of trying to understand why the hell you didn't say anything back there." He raised his eyebrows in expectation.

"I told you. He was just joking. He didn't mean it. And yeah, okay, I could have said something, but I'm not going to let my section think it's okay to talk back to the staff."

"You're practically guaranteed section captain this year, and everyone knows it. So stand the hell up! Don't let your section think it's okay to be damned assholes who can say shit like that to us!"

The braided boy sighed once again. "You're overreacting, Alex. It's not that big of a deal . . ." he muttered softly.

With a derisive snort, Alex picked up his instrument carefully. "Yeah . . . Okay, you think that. Like I said, if he keeps disrespecting us, I'll ask Bailey and Hedrick to resolve the issue. See you tomorrow, Duo." With a final wave, he walked out of the band room.

"Bye, guys," Jordan offered a small smile and helpless shrug. "Good job tonight, Heero," he added, as he grabbed his case and hurriedly followed his friend. "Slow down, Alex! Remember who's giving you a ride home!"

As they fell in step with each other, Duo turned to Heero, a sly grin curving his lips. "Think they're secretly dating?"

The Japanese boy raised an eyebrow, expression thoughtful. "No," he replied finally, with a shrug.

Duo laughed outright at the consideration Heero had put into the question. "Oh, Heero . . ." he grinned. "Well, I think they are . . . I mean, they flirt all the time . . ." he wriggled his brows suggestively, at which Heero merely grunted.

_Like that means anything to you. _"Don't tell them that," he advised tactfully, keeping his peace.

Chuckling lightly, Duo bent down to pick up the handle of his trombone case, before he began to slowly walk out, clearly expecting Heero to follow. And Heero couldn't figure out why he did.

Throwing Heero a curious glance, Duo broke the awkward silence, sober. "Sorry. You know, for giving you such a bad first night. It's not always like this . . . But I won't lie to you; there's a lot of drama in band," he rolled his eyes and groaned, pushing through the second set of doors. "Too much drama . . ."

As they slowed to a halt, Heero regarded Duo Maxwell solemnly for a long moment, searching his face, dark blue eyes nearly black in the evening light. "Don't be." He turned smoothly away, as they resumed walking out into the parking lot. "It was a difficult situation." As much as they'd like to blame him – he couldn't. With his back to him, he missed the surprised but genuine smile that crossed Duo's lips.

"Thanks."

"Hn."

"Hey, Yuy. Maxwell," Wufei called out to the two brass players, surprised to see them walking out together. "How was your night?"

"Shitty," Duo grinned, bouncing back to his usual self. Usual as far as Heero knew anyway.

The percussionist cracked a half-smile, "Yours, too, huh? God, those little kids are driving me insane. They won't shut up and just act like a bunch of immature monkeys," he muttered.

"Yeah, well, at least you didn't have to deal with section drama," Duo rolled his eyes, collapsing dramatically on top of the Chinese boy.

"Maxwell! Get off of me, you idiot!"

"Prick split up the low brass, took the trumpet's usual sectional spot, and told us to get the hell out," Heero summarized concisely, his tone flat.

"Prick?" Trowa raised an eyebrow before recognition flashed in his eyes. "Oh, you mean Kyle."

Duo and Wufei burst out laughing, and Heero looked slightly surprised but definitely amused. "Yes," he confirmed. Quatre shook his head, smiling hopelessly.

The flutist grinned. "Well, I only know because that's what every trumpet player calls him," he explained with a shrug.

"And just about everyone else who has to deal with him, huh?" Wufei snorted.

"Well, yeah."

The atmosphere had considerably lightened in the past few minutes, and as unusual as it was to be around the others with Duo, somehow it seemed right . . . It suddenly occurred to Heero that the trombonist knew just as much – maybe more – about his closest (and probably only) friends as he did. To a degree, he felt jealous, as he watched the others interact so easily and familiarly with Duo. Even Wufei, who was undeniably uptight and straight-laced, put up with his overzealously friendliness with half-hearted complaints. It was stupid, but up until this moment, he hadn't completely realized how close that shark was to his friends.

Grudgingly, he started to wonder if he'd been wrong the whole time. _No!_ He recalled how flirtatious Duo had been with Chloe and that saxophone player. Just because his friends were friends with Duo didn't mean they condoned every thing he did! They all had their flaws . . . _No._ He was resolute. Heero Yuy couldn't be beguiled so easily by a few charming words and gestures. Resolution renewed, he looked up, eyes shimmering fiercely in the low, evening light, and he caught Duo staring at him again. He didn't understand why. A strange feeling knotted in his stomach, clenching in his chest.

"Heero?" His voice finally made it to his brain, and Heero dumbly shook himself back into reality. Of course Duo would be looking at him; he was speaking to him. "You okay, man?" A hint of a smile played on his lips.

"Fine," he muttered, averting his gaze. He felt foolish and irritated, though the others probably had no idea what was going on. Quatre stared at him, a peculiar expression crossing his features.

"We just wanted to know if you'd like to come to Steak 'n Shake with us," the trombonist grinned.

"I should go home," he replied uncertainly. He wanted to be alone for a while, just to mull over the evening's events.

"You sure?" He was surprised that Duo wasn't pushing him into it and surprised that his friends hadn't really said anything, only stared at him with expectation.

"Yeah. I have to go feed my cat." Inwardly, he cringed at how stupid that must have sounded.

Chuckling lightly, Duo flashed him a bright smile. "Yeah, okay. Wouldn't want your poor cat to starve." He winked at him for no apparent reason. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then!"

Suddenly, the doors behind them opened, and a group of guard members rushed out, chattering loudly and giggling. Heero grimaced, though he brightened a bit when he saw Relena follow soon after.

He started for the door when he heard Duo's voice. "Hey, Relena! Wanna come with us to Steak 'n Shake?"

The trumpet player halted immediately, his polite smile frozen on his face. When he caught Relena's eye, however, he shook himself out of his stupor and nodded politely in her direction.

"Hello, Duo," she greeted, brushing a strand of her dark blonde hair behind her ears. "Hello, Heero. Hello, everyone." As she walked towards the group, Heero followed her, rejoining the others. "I'll have to call my mom, but I'd love to come! Excuse me." Laying her flags gently on the floor, she reached into her purse and retrieved her slim, pink cell phone, dialing home as she walked away from the rest of the group.

"Don't you have to go feed your cat?" Wufei reminded him sarcastically, eyebrows lifted in expectation.

Heero pointedly ignored him, as he waited for Relena to return.

"Okay. All set," she grinned, gasping a little in surprise when Duo slung an arm around her shoulder.

"Sweet! Pagan, dropped you off, right? Come on, I'll give you a ride," Duo offered, smiling charmingly at the guard member.

"Oh, no, I couldn't trouble you . . . Heero can give me a ride, since we live right next door to each other."

At her words, Heero allowed himself to indulge in a self-satisfied smile, until he remembered that he'd refused the invitation earlier. _Shit._ But he couldn't just let his childhood friend go to Steak 'n Shake with that shark . . . After all, that was the reason why he joined marching band.

"Yeah," he agreed flatly, taking a step closer to Relena. "Don't worry about it." He stared straight into Duo's eyes, as if he challenge him; he knew how it must have looked, but at the moment, he didn't particularly care.

Though clearly taken by surprise, Duo didn't question it. He released the girl and shrugged, grinning almost knowingly, "Okay. We'll meet you guys there, then!"

Heero narrowed his eyes. As Trowa and Quatre brushed past the two of them, he distinctly heard the flutist whisper, "Letting your poor cat starve, huh?" He whipped around to glare at the boy. Fortunately, Relena remained oblivious.

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Well, was that okay? I hope so. Sigh I'm pretty sure the next one will be better! And hopefully, I'll get it written sooner! Anyway, I'd love some feedback. :) 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters, nor am I profiting from writing any of this.

**Note:** Whoa! It's been a while! I apologize for the ridiculously long wait. Another long await . . . ::Sigh:: Seriously, I'm really sorry. I've been pretty busy with college and everything, like learning more about Microsoft Access than I ever need or want to know, and I just kind of kept forgetting about this. Plus, there wasn't a great deal of inspiration. In any case, uh, here's chapter five! It's a pretty short one in which Heero and Relena get into a semi-argument, and Heero does much brooding. Heheh. So yeah . . . Onward!

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Phoenixfirekitsune: Thank you so much for reviewing again! I know this is late, and the marching band season is over for most high schools, but I hope you had a good band camp and – well – season. Hehe. As for Wufei's instrument, I called him a percussionist in chapter two and mentioned something about his carrier. To be more specific, be plays the tenors – quints in this case. And most trumpets are in B flat concert. Hope that helps:) And yes, I feel sorry for Heero's cat, but I promise that he does love him (the cat)! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, if you're still reading, and thank you, again, for the review!

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**The Ladies' Man**

**Chapter V**

Relena was saying something; Heero couldn't quite bring himself to pay attention. Between concentrating on the drive home and keeping his furious train of thought at bay – until he was alone – he couldn't spare the energy to keep up with her inane small talk. Gripping his steering wheel more tightly, he released a quiet sigh and shifted in his seat. The familiar sense of pent-up adrenaline rushed through his body. He forced himself to focus on the road.

It caught him off guard, then, when the first sound his brain registered was Duo's name. He couldn't stop thinking about him . . . It was starting to get ridiculous. "Huh?"

Glancing at her quickly, he barely caught Relena's surprise and amusement. "Duo," she repeated with emphasis. "He's quite charming, don't you think?"

"Charming . . ." Heero muttered, though whether he agreed was debatable.

"Heero?" Puzzled, she shot him a doubtful look. "What's wrong? You've been acting strange all night . . . Did something happen?"

Sighing, Heero grimaced; he hadn't wanted to get into this now, but Relena had given him the perfect opening. Taking a moment to mentally prepare himself, he finally spoke, breaking the awkward pause. "Relena. I don't think you should be around Duo anymore." Not at all in the first place.

"What?! Why not?" she demanded, immediately growing defensive, her eyes flashing, as she stared at him in accusation; it suddenly became more awkward.

"He's just going to hurt you. Don't give him the chance."

With an indignant scoff, Relena turned to face forward, falling back into the passenger seat. "Not this again, Heero . . . Look; I don't even LIKE him like that."

Maybe not yet. "I'm serious! Before, you said that because I didn't know him, I couldn't make any judgments about his character, but now I do, and—"

"For one night!" She cut him off, exasperated. "Maybe four hours! You don't know him."

His lips thinned, Heero brooded in silence, reluctantly admitting that Relena had a point; he didn't know him. Not yet. But from what he saw tonight – it seemed like he knew enough. Repeatedly, the night's events replayed in his mind – how easily Duo flashed that flirtatious smile, his frequent and liberal touches, how carelessly he dropped those flattering, charming words . . . And every so often, Duo would make eye contact with him while doing so, as if it were Heero whom he wanted to affect, but Heero couldn't for the life of him fathom why that would be the case. Nevertheless – it made him angry.

As much as he thought he might find solace in silence, left alone to pursue his own devices, it became stifling in a matter of seconds. Relena and he rarely ever argued. Unwillingly, he felt guilt beginning to prick his conscience. But what could he say now? His opinions hadn't changed.

Despite his reluctance to leave their disagreement unresolved, he escorted Relena to the door without protest.

"Thanks for taking me home, Heero." She looked him straight in the eye, expression unreadable but not unfriendly; her voice sounded perfectly polite.

"Anytime." He glanced absentmindedly backward, distracted and uncomfortable. "Well, good night, Relena."

"Good night, Heero," she murmured softly.

As she went to knock on the door, she hesitated, biting her lip in uncertainty, but in the end, she said nothing else and went inside. Heero sighed inaudibly and turned to walk back to his car, wondering what she'd wanted to say.

Before he realized it, he'd unlocked the door into his empty mansion – empty save for his cat. "Damn it," he swore under his breath; he'd nearly forgotten about him again.

Sighing quietly to himself, he took off his tennis shoes and set his trumpet case down by the stairs before padding toward the kitchen. He ran a hand through his hair, indulging in a small, soft smile when he saw Schrödinger sprint out to greet him, meowing loudly to voice his displeasure. Heero smiled and reached out with his right hand to scratch the feline behind his ears, while he opened the pantry door, where his family kept the cat food. As he went about the task, he mulled over his and Relena's argument.

It'd been pretty much like this the other two times he'd brought up the subject, and it remained an unresolved issue. They'd never discuss it further after the fact and just acted like it had never happened. That was what made him think of joining marching band in the first place.

It wasn't as if he and Duo didn't see each other very much before; they were in Wind Ensemble every day at school together, after all. And since Relena and Duo had grown close – since that shark had targeted her – Heero had been quietly observing his behavior every class period, whenever he could spare his attention. In person, Duo hadn't changed much.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. In the few hours he'd actually interacted with the trombonist, he'd realized that there was a lot more to Duo than what he'd deduced; the bastard managed to catch him off his guard on more than one occasion, he admitted, which was surprising and insulting to say the least. However, at the same time, he'd realized that Duo was as much of a shark up close as he seemed from the distance. That was what mattered. And he didn't understand how no one appeared to disapprove, putting up with it, humoring it, and worse.

Absently, he retrieved his trumpet case and wandered upstairs, dropping it into his room, as he headed for the adjoining bathroom. He mused offhandedly that he didn't quite recall most of his way there.

Steak 'n Shake had been predictably uneventful – no spectacular moments nor earth-shattering revelations. There was no progress. But Heero didn't regret his attendance; who knows what that shark would have done, had he not been there. As ridiculous as he felt, acting the part of a guard-dog, he'd grit his teeth and bear it. What else could he do?

They'd arrived almost at the same time and entered the restaurant as a group. Duo flirted with the waitress, who quite shamelessly flirted back. Heero had snuck furtive glances between Relena and Duo and found, relieved, that she didn't seem fazed at all by his behavior. At least she was infatuated with him yet, and he had every intention of it staying that way.

After they'd ordered drinks, Duo returned his attention to Relena and resumed his flirtation. That was basically his whole night: watching Duo flirt with every girl within proximity.

Snorting quietly, Heero stripped off the rest of his clothes and threw the articles into the laundry basket under the sink. He reached into the shower and turned on the water, holding his hand up to the spray as he fiddled with the knob until he felt satisfied with the temperature. Then, he stepped into the spacious stall and closed the door behind him.

Well, he considered, that wasn't quite true either. They'd all made small talk, and with disarming ease, Duo slipped between his romantic endeavors to casual conversation with the rest of the group. When the subject returned to the incident between Kyle and Alex, however, Duo didn't bother defending the low brass drill tech.

"_He can be a dipshit," he snorted and popped a limp fry into his mouth. "I mean, even in Wind Ensemble, when he was still here, you know? God, I remember this one time, during brass choir, when this one freshman trombone missed this rhythm twice . . . Kyle totally ripped into him; it was frickin' vicious." He shook his head, smiling ruefully. "He always takes things way too seriously, you know?"_

"_And he's just an arrogant asshole about it," Wufei added with a smirk._

_Conceding to the drummer's assessment, Quatre nodded. "He's a really good player, though . . ." he remarked with consideration._

_Picking up his glass, Trowa tipped slightly it towards the group. "And Bailey loves him for it." He took a swig of coke and shrugged. "Well, I guess he's good enough to major in trombone; he got into the school of music, right?"_

"_I don't get that," Duo stated abruptly. "What the heck is he going to do with a trombone major? He's good – but he's not that good. And musicians don't make shit."_

"_Teach?" Trowa countered, shrugging._

_Duo raised his eyebrows slightly and flashed a wry smile. "Not much better."_

_Wufei snorted. "I feel sorry for whoever has to deal with Prick."_

Heero didn't say anything, eating his meal quietly and processing the new information, and a brief period of silence fell over the group, interrupted by the arrival of the waitress – with whom Duo immediately started flirting again.

Sighing in frustration, Heero rinsed the last remnants of the soap from his body and shut off the water. Talking to Relena wasn't working. Obviously, she saw everything Duo was doing, the way he acted, and Heero, for the life of him, couldn't figure out why it wasn't enough to deter her from getting close to him. It didn't make any sense. Eventually, she'd fall under his spell and get her heart broken, and Heero would have to be there to pick up the pieces and bite his tongue to refrain from saying "I told you so." Actually, he might conveniently forget the last part.

With a towel wrapped securely around his waist, Heero turned off the lights and retired to his room. Schrödinger, no longer dying from starvation, made a small noise upon seeing him, lazily lifting up his head before flopping back down and stretching across Heero's bed, his slender limbs trembling from the exertion. An affection smile softened his expression; Heero quietly padded over to stroke the cat's soft, white fur. Tomorrow, they had practice again. The day after that and the day after that and the day after that . . . What had he gotten himself into? He wasn't a band geek, he definitely wasn't a marcher, and he hated the people. Didn't everyone tell him that it was the best part? The people . . . He didn't like them. He didn't like Duo.

Duo. Fucking – he growled quietly; the more he thought about the boy, the more frustrated he became, the angrier . . . And the more he thought, the more convinced he became that the trombonist was taunting him, purposely provoking him, testing his limits – or maybe just to try to piss him off. Normally, Heero would brush it off, bristle and ignore the comments, the jokes, the general stupidity of high school kids, but there was something so fundamentally irritating about Duo that he couldn't, something that made him lose his composure. But right when he was ready to snap, Duo would suddenly pull back and act if nothing had happened at all, sometimes as if he'd meant something completely different from how Heero had interpreted his gestures. It was dangerously disarming, and the disorientation quelled his annoyance. Enough, at least, for him to remain in control.

And yet, there were a few moments tonight during rehearsal that Duo seemed – tolerable . . . Well, more than tolerable, actually, if Heero were to be honest with himself. There were moments when he understood why Quatre, Trowa, Wufei, and even Relena were on such good terms with him. He seemed intelligent enough, mature if the situation called for it, friendly, charming – as Relena had articulated, he recalled with some displeasure. There were moments when Heero genuinely considered that he and Duo might be able get along . . . If the latter weren't such a player.

At dinner, watching him flirt so indiscriminately and so blatantly with Relena, with their waitress, his suspicions and disgust flared up again, harshly reminding Heero what he'd joined marching band to do. And he wouldn't fail.

A sudden noise broken him from his reverie; Schrodinger had stopped purring instantaneously, stilling as his ears twitched and his eyes scanned the room quickly. Frowning, Heero rose to his feet and walked towards his music binder, on top of which rested his keys and his lighted-up cell phone. Curiously, he picked up the slim, black object and flipped up the cover. Someone had texted him. But no one texts him. After navigating to his normally empty inbox, he sighed and rolled his eyes when he opened the message. Apparently, Duo does.

_Hey Heero! Hope you had a good time tonight, thanks for coming out with us. It was cool to finally actually meet you and get to know you a little bit. Anyway if we haven't scared you off too much, I'll see you at practice tomorrow! Sweet dreams cutie pie ::winkwink::_

_Duo_

"Cutie pie"? Heero twitched in irritation. Duo Maxwell had obviously lost his sense of decorum long, long ago . . . Either that or he was purposely trying to piss him off. He'd nearly forgotten about the telephone number exchange at the end of dinner. Without warning, Duo had asked him casually for his phone number, and for the sake or preserving the peace, Heero had hesitantly given it to him and had added Duo's to his cell phone in return. After all, it may prove useful someday. Duo didn't seem like the dangerous stalker type, anyway. But as he reached to delete the text, Heero abruptly stopped, rereading the short, grammatically flawed message a few more times in spite of himself. He paused for a moment – then exited out to his phone's main interface and flipped it back shut. He didn't quite know why he decided to keep it, but – he frowned. Anyway, no one had to know.

Suddenly, it occurred to Heero that he should probably get dressed, as he noticed the slowly unraveling towel sliding down his hips.

* * *

Et Voilà! I hope you guys liked it, if anyone's still reading this. I just have to get through the next week and then finals . . . Then I'll be home for winter break for three, glorious weeks. Hopefully with the extra time, I'll be able to turn out another chapter before this year is over. ::Smiles sheepishly:: And as always, reviews would be lovely! 


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.

**Note:** Happy Valentine's Day, all! I kind of rushed the very end of this chapter in order to meet the "deadline," so I apologize for any stupid errors. The rest of it, the first half especially, got reread and edited quite a bit. There still might be mistakes and crappiness, though. XD I am pretty happy with the ending, though!

I think the period between the last update and this one will pretty much be how it goes from now on. And by the way, if you can't tell, this will most likely be a long fic, you know, to insure that it's at least decently realistic. I know that a lot of you want more Heero and Duo interaction . . . Well, you'll get it in this chapter! Hopefully, it won't make it too unrealistic.

Well, I hope you like this chapter, and as always, reviews would be awesome. :)

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Phoenixfirekitsune: Thank you very much for reviewing, as always! That's great about your marching band! That sounds like an awesome season . . . Man, so you guys are actually good, huh? My first three years were fun but kind of awful in that we just kept losing all the time, but our last year – that was the best we've done and the best we'll do for a long, long time. Our high school got split into two, and well – you can figure how that goes, right? Actually, our arch rival high school is Carmel, and they kind of won BoA . . . XD Anyway, if you're still reading, I hope you like this new chapter! Thanks, again. :)

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**The Ladies' Man**

**Chapter VI**

Heero had arrived at the high school approximately an hour prior to the start of practice. Why? He hadn't quite figured it out himself. Last night's rehearsal didn't exactly making him shiver with anticipation. Yet, armed with his trumpet case, drill binder, and his _We the People_ book, there he sat in the empty band locker room, with his knees drawn up towards his chest and his government text propped open across his lap, highlighter poised and ready – daydreaming. With a start, he realized, annoyed, that he couldn't remember anything from the last couple of pages. He sighed, half-heartedly flipped back to the beginning of the lesson, eyes skimming across the bright yellow markings he'd already made, and began again, determined to get through this last stretch before practice.

"Lesson 9. What Basic Ideas about Government Did the State Constitutions Include? How Did the New States Protect Rights?" (1) Right. That made sense . . . Rapidly, his interest slipped away from him again, and he was just – bored. He thought it would be easier to get away from the house, that a change in environment might help him concentrate more; usually, he had no trouble focusing on his work at the school, no matter how uninteresting the subject matter. But it wasn't working now.

Pensive, he capped his highlighter and set it on the carpet, a small frown settling across his lips. Idly, he mused that it might be because of all the idiocy he'd endured last night, but he dismissed the idea with a snort. Maybe he just needed a break. Maybe – oh, look – Chloe was coming his way . . . He wondered if she might just not see him.

"Hi, Heero!" No luck. Her green eyes lit up in recognition and surprise, and she beamed at him happily. "What are you doing here so early? Gosh, you even beat me and Quatre."

"Hi." He responded in a quiet voice, eyeing the girl warily; he was entirely unsure about how to answer her question, so he ignored it and hope she wouldn't press the issue.

Amazingly, she didn't. Maybe it had something to do with her attention span. "Whatcha got there?" Curious, she pointed to the still-open textbook he had in his lap and took a step closer to him. Brushing a stray lock of hair away from her eyes, she leaned down and turned a little, so she could read it. ". . . the purpose of government was to preserve and protect citizens' natural rights to life, liberty, and property," (1)she murmured slowly, flicking her gaze up to meet his when she had finished. "Is this for government class?"

"Yes." He waited for her to move back to a more socially acceptable distance, but instead, she shuffled closer to him and continued reading.

"Social Contract. Each state constitution also made it clear that its government was formed as a result of a social contract—an agreement among its people to create a government to protect their natural rights." (1) Thankfully, she knew better than to turn the page for him.

Finally, she stepped back and shot him a grin. "Wow . . . That's some complicated syntax," she joked. "Sounds boring."

Well, actually, Heero found it rather interesting – just not at the moment. "Hn," he grunted noncommittally, flipping the page himself, steadfastly ignoring the drum major in favor of his reading.

Slighted by his lack of interest, Chloe rose and took a few more steps back, expression puzzled and uneasy. "Well, I guess – I'll let you get back to it. I gotta go check in with Bailey and Hedrick and see what's on the schedule for today," she pointed to their office. "See you at practice, then."

With a final smile, she disappeared into the band room, humming some random melody. Well, at least she didn't sound terribly off-key – Heero had to give her that. If she were here already, Quatre would be coming along in a moment; he checked his watch. 5:21. Shit. If he wanted to get this done, he had to pick up the pace, before more people showed up.

And apparently, he just wasn't meant to finish the first unit before practice today . . . Sighing softly, he closed his book and recapped his highlighter, setting them aside and reached for his trumpet case. Heero was in the process of retrieving his water bottle when Duo came into view; really, Heero had heard him singing underneath his breath before he'd seen him. Sparing the boy a glance, he resumed his task, picking up his horn and extracting his mouthpiece. He was wearing a dark blue shirt today – he recognized it as the show shirt from a couple of years ago – and a pair of khaki shorts, his hair braided as usual, long bangs falling over his sunglasses. "Hi," he muttered quietly, surprising the both of them.

When he looked back again, Duo had removed his shades and was smiling. "Hey," he returned, his tone subdued. It was different on some level from his usual grins; Heero could tell, but he didn't really understand why. Or in what way. Only that . . . Well, Duo really did have a – nice smile. What the hell happened to his vocabulary? He frowned. Maybe idiocy was, indeed, infectious.

"_We the People_?" Duo bent down and retrieved his book, examining the cover. "Why did you bring this to marching band?" Amused, Duo raised an eyebrow, holding the book up to the light appraisingly.

Snatching the text from the trombonist hands, Heero slipped it into one of his trumpet case's pockets. "Couldn't put it down," he replied wryly, glancing back at him, as he zipped up the compartment. For a brief moment, their gazes met and held; Heero felt his breath catch in his throat, a strange spike hitting him in the gut. He jerked away, almost too quickly to catch the uncertainty and surprise that flashed suddenly in Duo's eyes.

But Duo recovered easily enough, managing to carry on without missing a beat. "Oh yeah? That good, huh?" He was smirking at him. "'Haven't gotten around to getting started on it myself . . ."

Shit. "You're taking A.P. Government."

"What? You don't think I'm smart enough?" he challenged, feigning offense. "I'll have you know that government and politics is just another hidden talent of mine."

"Like not being able to lie?" Heero snorted. But really, he never would have pegged Duo for the type who cared about the government at all; he seemed the type who just blew it off as some massive conspiracy.

Duo laughed, pleased and surprised at once. "Hey! I can lie . . . I just – choose not to do it . . ." he grumbled, grinning all the same.

"And I never said you weren't smart enough," Heero ignored his protest and continued, grabbing his drill binder and water bottle.

He turned before Duo could catch his expression and made his retreat into the band room. What the fuck was that? Where had all the anger from last night gone? Maybe it was because he hadn't been flirting outrageously with a girl, maybe it was because it was another one of those Duo-might-actually-be-tolerable moments, maybe he was just tired, or maybe – maybe he was finally realizing that people had a point when they insisted that Duo wasn't really a bad person.

The band room was empty. The directors and Chloe were still holed up in their office; Heero could hear their laughter but couldn't make out much of the conversation, even though the door was wide open. He set his binder on the stand he'd used last night, stepping firmly on the foot of it and pulling the top up to an appropriate height with his free hand. Once his "preparations" were complete, he took in a deep breath and played a G, holding out the pitch until it settled, tapering its release. He smiled a little when he heard it resonate through in the room. Next, he quickly ran through some major scales and a few minors, pleased about the relative ease with which he played. His chops were doing well today, despite the amount of practicing he'd done last night and earlier this afternoon. Unfortunately, he remembered that they would spend the majority of the evening going through how to march instead of working on the music.

Vaguely, Heero registered the band room door opening and clicking shut a few times. He ignored it and pressed onto the standard lip slurs they did every day in concert band, though when he reached to the fourth exercise, he cracked a few of the higher notes. Setting his horn down, he unscrewed the bottle and took a drink, licking his lips to catch the excess water droplets when he'd finished.

"Having a bad day?"

Heero turned around, frowning. "No, not really. Bad run, I guess," he shrugged, though he gave Quatre a quick half-smile. He screwed the cap back on and shelved the bottle onto the right edge of his stand.

The blonde grinned back. "Oh." After a moment of silence, as Heero bent to retrieve his trumpet, Quatre spoke again, suddenly. "So are you getting along any better with Duo?" Horn in hand, Heero turned to face him, expression suspicious and skeptical, as his friend hurried to explain. "I mean, he didn't say anything – well, he did say something. I was just kind of wondering about your end of it," he ended with a shrug and a sheepish smile.

"Hn." He wasn't interested in what Duo had said about him – it – whatever. Well . . . It really couldn't hurt to know. It might help him figure out what he needed to do to keep him away from Relena.

Before he could ask, Quatre interrupted his thoughts. "He said that he really couldn't figure you out. That one minute it seemed like you hated his guts, and the next, you'd say something 'totally weird' . . .?" he supplied hopefully. Heero raised his eyebrows in surprise. "He says that he doesn't know how he's supposed to act around you," he added.

Heero flicked his eyes away, idly skimming over the contest plaques displayed proudly above the folder slots. Duo didn't seem to have any trouble interacting with him; after all, he even went as far to seek out a more personal relationship for whatever reason. Though – if he were honest with himself, greeting him earlier didn't exactly discourage the practice. "More or less," he muttered finally. He really didn't want to have this conversation. And Quatre was acting as if he were plotting something again.

The drum major let out an exasperated sigh. "Well?"

"'Well' what?" he snapped, irritated, instantly ridden with guilt when hurt flashed across his expression. Heero didn't apologize, though, hoping Quatre would just take the hint and drop it. "I answered your question."

Those aquamarine eyes continued to bore a hole into him for a moment longer before Quatre sighed and gave up. Temporarily, anyway. "And you're not going to say anything more?"

Jesus! He knew the answer to that question; Heero fought the urge to roll his eyes. "No." It wasn't as though he knew, really, what to say, even if he wanted to share. Social games exist, and they were playing one right now. Were they actually getting along better? Or was it the beginning of some weird, unspoken rivalry of sorts? It seemed like that last night. Or maybe, they were still in the process of deciding. And it wasn't anyone else's business, anyway. He didn't want to think about it; it was frustrating and made his head hurt.

"Fine, Heero," the blonde gave him an almost amused smile, "I can take a hint. Besides, I'm running a little late today, so I should go see Bailey and Hedrick. I'll talk to you later!"

"Bye," Heero returned distractedly, processing the new information. Apparently – and much to his ego's relief – he wasn't the only one who didn't know what the hell was happening. At least the braided boy hadn't followed him when he made that hasty retreat. The kid didn't seem completely oblivious, he mused. Not that he'd tried at all to mask his hostility . . . And why would he? He wasn't trying to play nice and be Duo's friend, so he could convince him to stay the hell away from Relena and tackle some other conquest – or even mend his ways. He didn't want that shark's friendship, and he certainly didn't give a rat's ass about what Duo did with other girls. If he wanted to fuck with their heads, that was his prerogative, but Heero wouldn't let anything like that happen to Relena.

The anger had returned; Heero felt somehow relieved. Breathing in deeply, he set his cold mouthpiece against his lips and blew warm air through his instrument before he resumed the casual warm-up, determined to concentrate solely on his playing.

He lost himself in the music – hearing the pitches, the rhythms in his mind, trying to fine-tune his embrasure enough to play the notes in tune with the correct articulation at the correct dynamic, syncing himself with the style and mood of the chorale. It was an easy piece, technically speaking, but he kept pushing, kept exaggerating. Consciously, he forced himself to keep his throat open, pushing warm air through his horn, slowing the stream down as much as possible while still hitting the correct pitches. When he reached the final note, he added in a vibrato and then tapered its release. Out of the corners of his eyes, Heero noticed that a few people were looking at him admiringly and felt a flush of pride in his chest, though he stamped it down and forced his expression to remain impassive. He chided himself; deep down, he knew it wasn't enough. There would always be someone who could play better and without trying half as hard as he just did.

Sighing, he took another drink of water, trying to sake off the bitter, unsettling feeling that had overtaken him briefly. Every once in a while, he'd get into that kind of mood, an overwhelming consciousness of his own inferiority. Usually, though, these feelings would only come when he had a bad playing day, and it seemed strange that it had came now. What triggered it? Maybe Quatre had been right. He was having a bad day.

He scanned the band room out of habit, relaxing his arms, and barely noticed anything at all. Slowly, more people were coming in, chattering away, gesturing erratically, and laughing, contrasting sharply with the silence only five or ten minutes ago. Heero felt the noise swell around him, felt as if he were drowning in it, and something inside of him pulsed warningly; when had people gotten so annoying? It was just the second day of practice.

The door had swung open again. Lifting his gaze up, his eyes caught Duo's on accident; Heero felt that same sharp sensation strike him, and his heartbeat quickened. But, the trombonist looked away first and resumed his conversation with Chloe, brushing a few bangs away from his eyes. What the hell was that? Not that he really wanted Duo's recognition . . . He'd just come to expect it. After twenty-four hours. Snorting, Heero shook those thoughts from his head and flipped through the pages of his binder, searching for the parade tune.

Out of the edges of his vision, he noticed Jordan slide up next to him, setting his binder on the other stand. The junior shot him a quick smile – he returned the gesture with a nod – but didn't bother striking up any conversation, for which Heero felt grateful. He didn't feel up to socializing. Soon enough, Alex emerged from the locker room to join them. They exchanged a few, vague pleasantries.

Heero ran through the parade tune without paying much attention and found himself mostly observing the two juniors next to him. He couldn't help but remember what Duo had said last night – about how they would flirt all the time. He'd never been one to pay much attention to or care about that kind of thing, but they did seem awfully close, even for best friends. As he continued to watch them, he started remembering more – how often they touched each other, how close they would sit in the hallways, even when there was a reasonable amount of room on either side, how sometimes they'd just catch each other's eyes and grin, as if sharing some private joke.

Heero wondered if they noticed; he wondered if anyone bothered to point it out to them. Either no one had, or they didn't care what everyone else thought. They continued on as always – on top of all the jokes they made about being gay. Being gay together.

Maybe they were just friends and acted as normal best friends would act; Heero didn't know. He had never had a best friend. Not like that. He supposed that in a way, he and Relena were best friends, having known each other since the age of three, when Heero's parents had moved next door. But there had always been a distance between them. A few years ago, Relena had hit a rough patch, become depressed and withdrawn. Heero never knew what had happened or how she came out of it. He had tried to ask her about a few times, but she never answered him. They sat in silence until Relena changed the subject. He never pushed. Not too hard, anyway.

Bailey had stepped up to the podium, signaling for everyone to quiet down and to have a seat. The second day of practice began.

* * *

Sometime during the rehearsal, Heero managed to forget about everything and just focus on the techniques they were taught. The weather outside was mild, a cool breeze sifting through the marching block every now and again. They moved slowly to allow the new members to adjust and the old members to remember. It felt strange and uncomfortable, and Heero found himself enjoying the strict sense of discipline and order instilled in the activity. It was rigid and without exception, and everything had a purpose. He walked back into the band room, shoulders aching dully, with a strange sense of satisfaction. 

As he placed his trumpet gently into the grooves of his case, he heard the low brass running into the hallway, Duo's clear tenor voice leading the army chant, and it all came rushing back. Heero zipped his case shut and looked up, watching as the section scattered into the locker room and as Duo half-jogged up to him and stopped. The braided boy smiled at him, quickly, and coughed. Heero pushed himself up from his knees, trumpet case in tow, and raised his eyebrow in expectation.

"Hey." He paused.

"Hey," he replied evenly.

"Uh . . ." Duo scratched the back of his neck absently; he seemed nervous. "Can we talk?"

Heero narrowed his eyes, wary. "Why?"

The trombonist shrugged helplessly. "I – just have some questions," he finished lamely, continuing to stare him in that same unnerving manner.

The silence stretched painfully between them before Heero relented. "When?" He would have asked what it was about, but he had a feeling that he already knew. What he didn't understand was why he was agreeing.

Almost instantly, the braided boy brightened, some of his tension draining from his body. "Uh, if you have time now . . . Or tomorrow—"

"I'll wait," Heero interrupted, gesturing shortly at Duo's trombone. He might as well get this done and out of the way.

"Great." Duo breathed, grateful. "I'll try to hurry."

With those words, he smoothly turned and hurried to his instrument case, expertly weaving through the crowd, murmuring his 'excuse me's. Heero, unsure of what to do, followed him at a slower pace and then stood there awkwardly while Duo packed up his instrument, his music, and his water bottle. He wasn't really angry anymore. He didn't know what he was feeling.

"So what did you think of practice?" Duo glanced up at him briefly as he snapped his case shut.

"It was okay," he answered noncommittally, taking a step back when Duo rose. He watched him sling his drill binder across his shoulders, watched him untangle the strap from his braid, wincing when a few strands of hair caught and broke.

"Okay?" When he finished, Duo looked up at him, grinning. "Wow. Didn't ask for your life story," he quipped dryly.

Heero grunted and looked away. After a moment of silence, he tried again, "It was be—"

"So where did y—" Duo laughed, embarrassed, pushing some bangs from his eyes. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. What were you gonna say?"

For a moment, Heero looked at him hesitantly; flicking his eyes away, he admitted finally, "It was better than I thought it'd be."

And suddenly, Duo smiled again, the same smile as before, and Heero wondered what he did to make it happen. He wondered for how many other people he smiled like that. Did he smile that way with Relena? Grudgingly, he had to concede that as attractive as Duo was usually, when he smiled like that, he seemed even more so . . .

He snapped out from his thoughts when he realized Duo had spoken again. "That's great! I'm really glad . . ." For a moment longer, he continued to stare at him, smiling, eyes searching Heero's face. For what, he didn't know.

The trumpet player stared back, fighting the urge to look away, feeling uncomfortable and nervous and tingling . . . Tingling? Heero frowned, and Duo's expression cleared to its normal state. "Uh," he tucked a few stray locks of hair behind his ear, "so I'm ready." He gestured briefly with his arms and dropped them at his sides. "Is there any place in particular that you wanna go?"

Blue eyes narrowed, Heero regarded him questioningly. "Go?" he echoed.

Duo opened his mouth to speak and paused, "Well, I mean, they're going to close up the school soon, so it's not really like we can stay here," he shrugged.

"How many questions do you have?" His defenses shot up instantly; he gripped the handle of his case more tightly.

Flashing him a half-smirk, Duo shrugged again, though it failed to mask the tension that had returned to his shoulders. "'Depends on what your answers are," he retorted, cocking an eyebrow, as if to challenge him.

Heero bristled; after a moment, he nodded shortly. "Hn. Fine. Where do you live?"

Again, Duo seemed strangely relieved and relaxed. "Uh, down by Hillcrest, pretty close to your neighborhood." When he saw Heero's expression, he laughed, "Don't worry; I'm not stalking you. It's just that you live right next door to Relena, and I've given her a ride home a couple of times," he shrugged, grinning, clearly amused by Heero's suspicion. "Anyway, we can go to my house, if you want, or –"

Sighing in resignation, Heero interrupted him. "Let's go to my house; I have to feed my cat." This sounded like it would take quite a while, and he didn't want to make Schrödinger starve again . . . Damned cat. Besides, he would feel more comfortable in his own home – or rather, he would feel infinitely more uncomfortable having this confrontation in Duo's house.

"That sounds good." Duo grinned brightly and far too mischievously, "Your cat, huh? He wasn't too mad at you last night, was he?"

The trumpet player shot him a pointed glare and chose that moment to start walking towards the parking lot. "No." No thanks to Duo.

The braided boy followed him, jogging a little to catch up, sidling up next to him. With some annoyance, Heero noticed that they were in step with one another, and he wondered if it were on purpose. "Aw, I'm just playin'. 'Can't wait to meet him, though." A thoughtful look crossed his expression, and then he smiled again. "What's his name?"

"Schrödinger."

". . . Schrödinger . . ." Duo repeated, puzzled. "Schrödinger . . . Why does that sound so familiar?" he murmured to himself. A moment of silence stretched between them before Duo suddenly laughed. "Oh my god . . . You're such a dork, Heero! Schrödinger's cat? With the box and the poison? Quantum mechanics?"

If he weren't so annoyed by Duo laughing at his choice of name, he might have been pleased that someone had actually caught the allusion. Expression hardening, he steadfastly ignored Duo, waiting for him to regain his composure. "I don't see why that's so funny," he muttered under his breath.

When he felt a warm hand clasp his shoulder, Heero's head immediately snapped towards the assailant, death glare firmly set in place. He didn't like it when other people touched him – at least when people with whom he was not familiar and comfortable touched him, and that shark most certainly did not qualify. It felt weird, a light buzz of electricity grazing the place where his hand had rested. Duo stopped and almost immediately dropped his hand, mouth slightly parted in surprise, eyes wide and confused. He ignored this and continued walking.

"H-Hey, Heero!" Duo called after him, jogging a bit to catch up. "Wait up, man!" He reached out with the same hand but caught himself before he could make contact. "Heero . . ."

He made the mistake of turning to face the braided boy and found himself caught by those unusual eyes, reflecting none of the accusation he'd expected, only concern, confusion, and regret.

"I'm sorry," he spoke quietly, sincerely enough that Heero believed he meant it. "I wasn't making fun of you or anything." They'd stopped in the middle of the hallway. Heero waited for the other boy to notice.

"Damn," he swore when he finally did and shuffled awkwardly to the side. Quickly scanning the area to make sure they were in anyone's way, he looked at Heero again. "I like that name. Really," he offered him a small, hopeful smile. "It just – it really suits you. Your cat, I mean."

Heero's expression turned into one of mild surprise; the hostility all but disappeared. At this, Duo's smile widened into a grin, "It's just so perfect – that's why I was laughing," he explained. "I didn't mean to offend you. I like it," he repeated for emphasis.

Slowly, Heero relaxed, his face slipping back to its usual, almost blank state; they continued walking in silence, past the doors and into the student parking lot. The weather was mild, just a hint of lazy summer heat lacing the atmosphere, and the evening air was fresh, almost sweet from the fragrance of wet grass that wafted from the stadium. "It was a steel chamber," he remarked suddenly. He couldn't help but sneak a look at the braided boy's expression, to see if he understood the reference.

When the furrow of his brow smoothed, Duo's gaze snapped immediately to Heero's face for a moment, and he grinned overzealously. He glanced away quickly enough and chuckled, "Sorry. I was never too good at science. Box – steel chamber – it's all the same to me . . ."

They fell into silence, and when Heero looked back towards the trombonist, he caught him staring again, amusement glittering clearly in his eyes. The days were long, and the sun had yet to fully set. In the fading light, they looked softer, more violet than Heero had remembered, and his lashes were tinted a dark gold. Heero watched, almost fascinated, as they gradually darkened when Duo lowered his gaze.

"So . . ." The light caught them again, when Duo looked back up, straight into his eyes, "Does that mean 'apology accepted'?" He smiled at him hopefully while trapping a part of his bottom lip between his teeth.

And it wasn't just his eyelashes – the shades of red and gold in his chestnut braid became more apparent, washed in the remaining light of the sunset. "Hn," he grunted but otherwise made no reply, unlocking his car doors.

The braided boy laughed again, and Heero heard from somewhere behind him, "Good enough for me! I'll take that as a 'yes.'" After setting his belongings in the backseat, Heero stilled when a sudden thought struck him.

Was – was Duo actually flirting with him? He blinked. But that was ridiculous! But despite himself, he craned his neck, searching for him. The trombonist nodded at him briefly and grinned when he found him. "See ya at your place, then!"

"Bye," he muttered, quickly turning around. He wasn't. Right?

* * *

(1) We the People: The Citizen and the Constitution textbook that we used in 2005-2006 for government class . . . I don't have it with me, so I'll give the full citation whenever I got home next, if I remember. XD

* * *

Well, well, well . . . How peculiar . . . Was he? Or is Heero just being paranoid? Grins So again, I apologize for the long wait. I actually did start writing this over Christmas break, but it didn't quite get finished until about 11 PM tonight. XD Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think. You'll have to wait a while to hear of their "confrontation." I have a big accounting exam next week, a twenty-minute group presentation next week, a macro-econ assignment due next week – busy, busy! Then I have another speech the following week. Most admired business person? Any ideas? Heh, heh. 

Thanks for reading this story thus far, guys; I really, really appreciate it! And all your reviews are wonderful . . . I'd love to hear any comments/criticism/suggestions you have and would be happy to answer any questions I can:)

**Oh, and one more thing.** I've been writing from Heero's point of view (albeit in third person) for pretty much the whole time thus far – should I write from someone else's point of view?


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